Tightrope
by MarshmellowDragon
Summary: What if Maka had taken Crona's strike and been infected with the black blood first? When the line between right and wrong suddenly decides to go missing, strength is what you define it to be.
1. Tumble Down

"_Masochism is a valuable job skill."_

-Chuck Palahniuck

* * *

"Those doors, they open inwards."

Too fast, that sword was moving too fast. It was all she could do to dodge; all she could manage to keep one foot backing up behind the other. Too slow on one jerk of the head, and she didn't realize her cheek was bleeding until her hair got stuck in the red liquid sliding down the side of her face.

"Maka! Guard already!" _But I can't do that…_Because somehow, somewhere, her brain told her that Soul getting hurt was much much **much **worse than anything that could happen to her. _And I can't attack either!_ No time to think about the problem, no time for anything. The sword swung out erratically, striking down at her legs instead of her head and she stumbled. Didn't matter if there was an actual wound or not, her knees went weak at the sensation of near separation from the rest of her and it was all she could do to keep from tripping over her own boots and tumbling head over heels. Shit.

_Thisisscarymakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop!_

Relentless, the sword made a dive for her head. One stab, straight through, and it'd be a shish-kabob of Maka brain pinned to the church door. There was no slowing of time, no life before her eyes, just pure instinct and years upon years of self defense classes kicking in when she snapped Soul in front of her, using him to knock the black blade to the side and force it to miss her head by some tiny margin too close for comfort. Metal on metal (or did it still count as blood?) screeched like some unholy cacophony, almost but not drowning out her weapon's cry (scream? Yell? There were so many words for that horrible sound) of pain. Sparks flew into the air, tears brimmed and made to roll down her face, but she wouldn't –_couldn't_– shut her eyes to wipe them away.

_I'msorrysorrysorrysosorrySoulsosorrysorrysorrySoulpleasejustbeokayyouhavetobepleasepleaseplease-!_

She was missing a pigtail, some part of her noted offhandedly. Her ear was numb.

Wrenching Soul away from the clash of blades the moment she had the chance, Maka ducked under the black sword as it made another pass at liberating her head from her shoulders. She needed to end this before that blade stopped letting her dodge. The momentum was with her as her palms hit the ground, so she struck out for a roundhouse at the other meister's kneecaps with her own leg, hoping for something like a miracle so that he/she/it would just go _down_.

Mistake number one.

No luck. It was like kicking iron. Maybe something snapped or cracked in her leg, maybe it was just her imagination, either way, the backlash brought her tumbling to the ground, teeth clicking together as her jaw slammed into the marble floor. Fingers slipped as they scrambled for purchase and Soul fell from her grasp, clattering to the floor and stopping just out of reach of her outstretched hand.

Mistake number two.

She was rolling even before the world stopped spinning, again dodging the stab of the black sword by a hair's breadth on some instinct she'd never appreciated before tonight. No time to grab Soul, she just had to get away. But hitting the thick wood of the church's door came far too soon for her liking. Maka scrambled to pull herself up so that she'd have leverage for knocking down said door. _Escape_. _Get out, MOVE._

Three strikes, you're out.

Heaving her arms backwards, elbows and back banging against the entryway...

No give.

"Those doors, they open inwards."

Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

Maka turned her head back to her pink-haired attacker, (to try and block? To dodge? To run? To see the attack coming for some strange masochistic reason?) just in time to catch the chesire cat grin that had cracked his/her/its face in two, Maka's own pupils shrinking and mouth opening (to scream? Plead for her attacker to stop? Cry out?).

_I'msorrysosorrysorrybutIdon'twanttodietooyoungsomuchlefttodopleasepleasepleaseIdon'twanttodie-_

Down came the blade.

_Shoulder to hip, right between the breasts and slicing right under and probably through a few ribs, deeper than she'd ever been mangled and kind of how she'd imagined being gutted like pig would feel like. So damn deep her soul felt like it'd been violated, ripped to shreds by the force of the blow. Any second now the blade was going to eat her, devour her, lick its lips and go 'yum, now wasn't that a tasty little morsel' and it'd be over and done and gone and forgotten and she'd never say goodbye and…_

…This wasn't so bad. Everything was all numb-ish and weird, but that was it. Hanging upright for a few moments, Maka got a chance to get a real good look at the stained glass at the other end of the church. Pretty stuff. Pinks and yellows and blues and greens and...red? Lots of red. Real pretty. A smile lit up her face.

She didn't know when her knees buckled, but all of a sudden it was the ground coming up to meet her face. Nice thing for the ground to do, breaking her fall like that; Very considerate of it. Thump. Plop. Plop? Oh. There was a puddle. She landed in that puddle.

"MAKA!"

Her eyes had closed at some point before, although now she cracked them open to hang at half-mast, just wide enough to catch the fact that the gunk creeping up to clog her airways was red. It was hard not to breathe in the stuff, pooling out around her like it was. She'd drown in the glop if she didn't move her mouth. But it hurt to move.

Fingers were reaching for her. Grabbing her shoulder, pulling her out of the pool of stuff so she wouldn't drown and woah, she was tired. She sagged like a boneless sack into the arms of whoever had her. They were shaking her, bastards. Was it too much to ask for some shut eye?

"Oi! Maka!"

Nap time.

* * *

_That was actually pretty fun to write :D And here I normally hate fight scenes. Go figure._

_Anyway, don't worry, I don't plan on rewriting the whole series. So this isn't gonna turn into just a string of episode transcripts XD I plan to use this as a way to get out all my weird theories about the SE universe without resorting to a bunch of 300 word drabbles :P I would like to declare now that there won't be any "official" pairings, this isn't a romance story, but I'll probably be hinting stuff left and right when the mood suits :P  
_

_So thanks for reading, I don't own, etc._


	2. Scream Therapy

"_Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives."_

-William Dement

* * *

Some people were too loud for their own good; Or, in this case, for their daughter's good.

Even though the door had been slammed shut a good half hour ago, even though he had his mp3 playing at full blast, and even though he'd pulled down his headband so that the fabric muffled the screeching from outside, he could still make out every insult, slight and slur that was thrown between the warring parents. It'd started when Maka's Mama had called her Papa irresponsible for letting her get hurt like this, and he'd fired back that at least he was around to watch her grow up. Things had exploded from there.

Funny, he'd never pegged Maka's old man as the type to blow up like this; had been expecting more of a whimpering plea for her to get better; Lots of begging and sobbing of semi-manly tears. No such luck.

And he'd wondered where Maka got her lungs from.

…Not that her lungs were doing her much good at the moment. Soul risked a sideways glance at his slumbering meister, tube down her throat and all. The plastic in place had something to do with the sword striking too deep, something else about how it vibrated like an electric saw and was vaguely connected to this black blood he'd been [over]hearing so much about.

Hey, he'd been paying attention to the details...!

It had just been stupidly difficult to pull the truth of what was going on with Maka out from in between the lines of Stein's ramblings. He guessed that the meaningless answers were supposed to make him happy and feel better since the whole lot of BS sounded kind of uplifting if you took it all in one gulp. If he squinted a little, stood on one leg and hopped in place fifty something times, he might have dared to think that his partner was going to be a-okay.

Fidgeting in the uncomfy plastic chair, Soul leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The fact that Stein had been lying in the first place was more than unsettling; wasn't like the doc was a big ol' softie or anything. For the umpteenth time that hour, his mouth twitched as it fought to frown. And it wasn't just because of Death Scythe and Kami-san's contest over who could screech louder at the other one.

Hah, and here Maka had been telling him about how her Papa claimed he couldn't stop sobbing after the divorce due to his undying love for her Mama. Sure didn't sound like that at the moment.

…Oooh, ouch. _Especially_ after those last few words.

"Can't you make them shut up for Maka's health or something?"

Medusa-sensei paused in her paperwork, lingering just long enough to appear in thought before shrugging and leaning back in her chair to address the weapon. "I believe, Soul-kun, that some things just need to be worked out. If I were to break them up, they'd just start back up eventually, wouldn't they?"

"…Guess so." Just because he agreed with the logic didn't mean that he had to like the answer or anything.

Smiling grimly, the nurse turned back to her work. "Besides, if I were to stop them, Death Scythe might just start hanging on me, and I know for a fact that Kami-san wouldn't appreciate that." Soul snorted; Understatement of the century. He hadn't even been introduced to Maka's mama yet and he still knew that she was violent as hell.

"Although, sleeping with another woman's husband _does_ tend to make you mortal enemies no matter what, I think. Fourteen years and that woman still can't let it go. Personally, I believe she's angry that I'm not flat like her." He _did not_ need or want to know this. Ugh. Yuck. If he had anything to say about it, Maka wouldn't know either. There were limits. The sugary sweet smile plastered on Medusa-sensei's face was definitely pushing that limit.

Honestly, what was it with the female population? They were all either flat, violent, crazy, or all three.

Flat: He was convinced she'd been stuffing tissue paper down her shirt. He'd seen tables with more topography.

Violent: Gave him concussions as a pastime. Liked to scream and yell and bare her teeth if the odds were stacked against them. Ducking and weaving and slashing came to her like she'd been born and bred for it.

Crazy: Didn't know when to stop. A frikkin' masochist who didn't realize that allowing him to end up with a few more bruises and bumps was a _much_ better idea than letting her take the blow and make him watch as she tumbled. Who didn't care that she'd left him here to wonder _what if…_

…if he'd gotten up? He'd tackled their attacker from behind? Blocked it with an arm…flat out taken the blow himself and it'd been his blood flying through the air and getting everywhere and making _her_ feel like she'd screwed up big time and that there was nothing she could do and _shit_ what if he died and that was way too much blood and all the classes in the world didn't prep them enough for this and sometimes it just wasn't fair but what the hell they'd signed up for this a little too quickly if all they did was die 'cuz of some insane bitch with issues!

Friggin vicious cycle. He breathed in, breathed out, played with the gauze and bandages wrapped around his neck and shoulder from where the stupid sword had bit him. Tried to calm down. (He ignored the part where his hand had scrambled to find hers, remind him that she was there.)

When the volume outside seemed to have been turned up a few more notches, Soul sighed and leaned back in his chair, fidgeting until comfortable and adjusting his headband in the hopes of blocking out more noise. "This is all your fault, you know."

If Soul noticed Medusa-sensei stiffen at her desk, he didn't say so.

How much longer was this going to go on? Maybe, if it kept going, he'd risk yelling at the pair himself. Just to see if he could shock them into silence. Then again, he'd probably end up with a concussion. Or dead. Death Scythe had already made it pretty clear how pissed he was.

"Stupid Meister, being an idiot and getting hurt badly enough to have the school call her mom in from the other side of the world to say goodbye incase…" This time, it wasn't just a twitch of the mouth, a full fledged frown split across his face. "…incase something happened."

"_DON'T PUT THIS ON ME, IT'S YOUR FAULT FOR BEING SO – SO – UGH!"_ Kami-san sounded far too much like Maka. Soul cringed. The universe was freaky like that sometimes; it liked to answer questions that he'd rather leave unanswered. (Because wasn't he supposed to be the one dying here? So was it his fault for failing to get up when dropped? For making her afraid to guard with him? For just failing in general?)

He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. This wasn't the time to be thinking uncool thoughts like that. If Maka blamed him for this, he'd find out about it. Later. When she woke up. Now was the time to focus on the music blaring in his ears and drown out the rest of the world so that the hours could slip away and Maka could just _wake up_.

"Soul-kun, do you want some pills to help you sleep? I'm afraid that this might drag on a while longer. I don't think Maka-chan will be up for a while yet, so you won't be missing anything other than a shouting match."

"Nah, I think I'll-"

Medusa-sensei cut off the protest with a sugary-sweet smile that promised nothing short of pain and misery at the mercy of her favorite set of needles. It seemed someone had been taking intimidation lessons from Stein. "And as your nurse, I strongly recommend that you rest. I might have to…escort you off the premises and into a proper bed if you don't. That gash on your shoulder isn't going to heal itself."

Now if that wasn't a threat, he didn't know what was. Cool guys didn't pout, but his face apparently didn't know that. "What's wrong with me sitting here? If I leave, Maka'll totally kick my ass when she wakes up for not being here."

He nodded like it was a very scientific conclusion that he'd just come to. "Maka believes _real_ strongly in all that partner touchy-feely mumbo-jumbo that we got fed in resonance 101." Yes, he believed what he'd just said thankyouverymuch. He had a constant concussion to prove it. No, he wasn't in denial.

"Aw, that's cute. You don't want her to wake up alone save hear her parents screaming at each other. Very romantic. I give you an A for effort."

Was this woman deaf!? Or she was reading waaaaaay in between the lines. So far between that he didn't even know the spaces had been there. And he'd been the one speaking.

"And that _does_ make sense. Silly me, only thinking about Maka-chan's physical health. Mental fitness is just as important. Screaming parents make unhappy children. And unhappy children blame themselves and sometimes end up slitting their wrists and bleeding all over the pretty carpet. Such a _shame_."

Lalalalalaaaa, he couldn't hear Medusa-sensei talking. Didn't want to. He didn't know what scared him more, the words themselves or the monotone tenor that she'd used while speaking them. Honestly, the lady got into these funks sometimes, and turned scary as hell. Any second now she'd be pulling out a scalpel just like Stein. Maybe that was the problem? Too much Stein?

"Although…if it makes you feel any better Soul-kun, I think, in this case, it's not so much a problem of them not loving each other as it is of their worry for Maka-chan outweighing that love." And suddenly, she was back to the sweet school nurse who wouldn't hurt a fly.

The woman sighed slightly, smiling in a way that screamed to Soul that she was trying her best here and he should totally just drop the subject so she could get back to work. And his brain when _oh, okay. Let's just ignore how freaky she was a few minutes ago_. And that's what his brain did. Forgot about it and focused on poor Medusa who was just trying to make him feel better. Just like magic.

"I'm not making much sense am I?"

"Nope. Not at all. I'm a guy. We're not known for our sensitive sides."

Exactly.

Which was why he was still sitting there when Maka _did_ wake up.

Silly men.

* * *

Maka liked The Room.

From the heavenly comfort of the overstuffed chair to the warm honey light filtering in from unseen lamps to the rows of shelves, overflowing with books of all kinds, that lined the walls of The Room, she couldn't get enough of this place. It helped, kind of, that venturing out of The Room brought her to her knees in pain, screeching and screaming and sobbing and crying and tearing at her chest like it was on fire; babbling nonsense to the blackness in some futile hope that help would arrive and drag her away from the pain and darkness that wanted to crush and shred and tear and _rip her apart._

But here, she was safe to find refuge in a book. She loved books.

A clock, also unseen, chimed sweetly to inform her that it was three in the afternoon. And so the act began again. Like a marionette on its strings, Maka's head was pulled up to look forward and watch the scene unfold.

The Door, the only door in The Room, the door to _out there_ where there was only pain and crying and general unhappiness to welcome her, opened of its own accord, and in trotted The Lady, charcoal black dress dragging on the floor behind her. There was a near inaudible click as The Door closed on its own, overshadowed by the sharp clack of The Lady's heels on the tile floor as she glided forward with steps so horribly prim and proper that Maka was sure they'd been practiced to perfection in front of a mirror too many times to count.

And like every other time before this, The Lady spoke. (But what language? Maka knew the meaning but not the words, could see the lips moving but couldn't quite make out the voice.)

"Hello, dear. Would you like to watch some television? Young children like television, don't they?" Silent, the girl fiddled with the edges of the book as The Lady continued with her script. "We've got cartoons." Maka shook her head. "Too young? There're some news channels if you want to be a big girl. I'm sure we could find you something. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Once more, because she already knew how this little play was going to end, Maka found herself speaking in the familiar squeal of her four-year old self. "No thank you, Ma'am. I like reading. I love books very much." Like every other time, she smiled her toddler-smile to go along with her perfect little lady manners and turned back to the book that had suddenly become just as heavy as she was. It was now large enough (or rather, she was now small enough) that when open, it hid her legs from view.

"Very well, Maka-chan, but it's television time now. No books allowed. I'll have to put you away." And now Maka _was_ the book. (Why couldn't they skip this part?) And The Lady picked her up in her prim and proper and perfectly manicured little hands and wedged her between two other books on the shelf. She fit just right, snug as a bug between her friends.

The Lady walked away, job complete, shutting The Door behind her with an unsettling kind of finality.

And Maka was stuck.

Couldn't move. (Fast-forward, it'd be over eventually)

Couldn't speak. (But still, you never knew, what'd happen if…)

Couldn't breathe. (Maybe this wasn't a dream?)

Couldn't _feel_ couldn't_ hear_ couldn't _see_ couldn't _touch_ couldn't _taste_ couldn't _understand_ couldn't _cry _couldn't _go on_ couldn't _**live.**_

She woke up screaming. (Repeat the motions)

* * *

_Hah, Nurse!Medusa is awesome. I can totally picture her being sadistic and smiling and saying that it's for the patient's health etc while jamming a probe up the poor patient's ass. Kind of like Unohana from Bleach :P_

_Though, I'm wishing I had actually had Kami show up. I feel bad for making her first impression as a yelling/screaming match but…er, she loves Maka very much? I dunno. All we know about Kami is what Maka describes her as, and from that description I got 'loud, pushy, righteous, mom'_

_The Maka part was…fun. :D I dare someone to guess what it's supposed to mean outside of the standard HAH IT'S THE BLACK BLOOD SHOWING UP! Because I love foreshadowing :P_

_Um…side note. SE 45 looks intense. Can't wait :D_


	3. Loose Ends

_"The thing that impresses me the most about America is the way parents obey their children."_

-King Edward VIII (GB)

* * *

"You're a bastard, you know that, right?" He hummed something, maybe assent, maybe denial, against the tender skin where neck met shoulder, not trusting his words to keep her in his arms. "And you're not even denying it anymore." She snorted to herself, though it wasn't enough to hide the moan building up in her throat, he heard it all the same, and took that as permission to keep going.

"We're not doing this again." She'd said that before. He didn't feel like pointing that out. "You're too lazy to get a condom. No. We're not. We won't. I'll get an STD or something. Who knows where you've be-aaah…" Same sweet spot, she hadn't changed much.

"That's the only reason? If I have anything, I think you got it last night." He couldn't help himself. But still, she tensed in his arms and he was already regretting it. He didn't bother being surprised when she slid herself free to sit up in the bed, knees drawn up to her chest and expression hidden behind the waves of dark brown hair.

"This isn't fair to Maka." She whispered.

"To Maka?" He echoed, wincing afterwards in anticipation of a blow to the head that never came. "Umm…can I say something? You came onto me." Ahh, _there_ was the deadly Kami chop that he'd loved and missed so much. Maka's just didn't have the same murderous intent behind it.

"Of course I did! You wouldn't have let Maka go out this soon if you weren't drunk and thinking with your pants!" Sighing, his ex-wife flopped back onto the pillow beside his, frowning at him as if this was all his fault and he should fix it right now. And she was right. He was already regretting signing those things, if Maka wasn't healed enough…

"You know, the waiver only needed your consent. You've got legal custody."

"I know."

"If that's a roundabout way of telling me that it doesn't matter what the courts say and that I make a better father than you make a mother…thanks." She snorted.

"Of course not." He deflated instantly, pouting like a little kid. And here he'd been so happy for a second…"It's my roundabout way of saying that you're doing a passable job of being an overprotective parent." Well, it was better than nothing he supposed.

"But…" There was always a but, wasn't there? "…right now she doesn't need or want an overbearing father figure. She almost got gutted like a pig-"

"Don't remind me." He interjected. Kami sat up once more and he groaned internally, because oh crap, they weren't going to start this argument _again_ were they?

"Don't remind _you_?" Too late, it'd already begun. "I got called in from the other side of the world because _'Oh, good day Ms. Kami! May we request you return to Shibusen? Why? Oh, nothing much; just the fact that your daughter is in critical condition and she may or may not survive the night. We figure you might want to say goodbye.'_ Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"

"Oh I'm _sorry_. I just thought that breaking down a door to find your daughter bleeding out onto the floor was a smidge scarier than a phone call. Or maybe it was the twelve hour plane ride home where Stein was trying to keep her lungs from failing on her and the machines kept on flat lining whenever I turned around!? I just can't remember!"

"Don't make it sound so dramatic. Stein probably had her stabilized in five minutes! I had to make it through transit not knowing if she'd still be alive when I got there!"

"Do you know how _little_ she looked? Like a friggin' glass eyed doll because she'd lost so much blood, and all Stein lets me do is hold her hand! I was pacing outside her room for hours before you showed up, and you say you had it worse!?" Her feet landed on the floor with a deafening smack, and she stood.

"I'm leaving."

"That's what you always do! You never try to talk it out, you just make your point and _leave!_"

"I'm taking the forms with me."

"Oh yeah, because you're such a perfect mother figure!" Fully dressed now, Kami grabbed the scattered pieces of paper from where Spirit had thrown them last night.

"She doesn't need your protection _dear_." Even though they were spit like a curse, the barbed words failed to sink in and tear at Spirit; he didn't let them. "What she needs is courage. In herself. In her strength. If we coddle and care for her, give her protection she doesn't need or want, where will that leave her!?"

"ALIVE!"

He was proud of his answer.

Kami slammed the door behind her.

* * *

The bookstore was a tiny thing, impossible to find because it blended into the street corner so well. But, Soul figured, better late than never; he still had time to grab the book, get out, and pick up Maka from the infirmary. He pushed through the door, twitching as a tiny bell announced his arrival. And here he'd hoped to make this visit as anonymous as possible.

But, whether by luck or the complex social hierarchy of a bookworm, the storekeeper barely spared him a glance before returning to the hefty hardback spread open on her desk.

Great. One problem solved, there'd be no salesperson bugging him to buy the hottest romance novel on the shelves. Question was, what _did_ Maka like? Supposedly, this was her favorite store. So, by some stretch of logic, there had to be a book here that she liked. But which one?

Romance was out, guys didn't get girls cheesy novels that had more sex than character development. Especially not cool guys like him. He decided against gore and monster mysteries for pretty much the same reason; Guys just didn't do stuff like that. And the last thing he needed was a jumpy meister nagging him to check under the bed for monsters that might be real. So that left…humor? Horror? History? Gah, books weren't his thing.

It was a shame she wasn't a music addict. _That_ he could do. Maybe a music book then? Nah, probably not. Music didn't translate well into words; he didn't wanna give her the wrong impression of it. Music was something you had to hear, not read.

No choice then. Black Star had taught him a technique for situations such as these; an ancient one that required the utmost of concentration and the purest of intentions. Otherwise…He didn't wanna think about the consequences. Steeling himself for the worst, Soul inhaled and-

"Eeenie, meanie, minie, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe, if it hollers…let…it…um, what?"

The storekeeper, who'd somehow hobbled her way next to him _unnoticed _while on crutches, shook her head in disbelief. "Don't mind me, I'm just watching. I wanna see what you end up picking. Last time a guy tried it, he ended up buying the Karma Sutra for his mother." The brunette let out a snort at the end, giggling at something or other that Soul must have missed.

"Er, what?"

"Nevermind. Book joke. I guess you don't get it." She shrugged as well as she could with the crutches, though the effect was ruined by the fact that she broke into giggles every few seconds. "I guess you're not, -snort- looking for something in particular?"

"It's for a friend. She's getting released from the hospital today so I figured…" Obviously, the storekeep knew along the lines of what he figured, as she smiled grimly, gesturing to the crutches like a war vetran to their battle scars.

"And you wanna cheer her up because it's so depressing in there? Good idea. I've been in and out of the place for six years and I still haven't gotten used to it. Hah, one time, my boyfriend came and kidnapped me 'cuz he was afraid they were sucking my brains out and-" Soul hadn't _meant_ to stare, but, well…

The young woman coughed awkwardly. "Right, so you're looking for something funny. Ah, what's her name? If she comes here a lot, I could probably be more help."

"Maka Albarn. Kinda my height? Um, blond-"

"HOLY CRAP! She's in the hospital?! Geeze…I didn't know! I would've gotten her a card or something…She's gonna be okay, right? She can't be that old now and…geeze. It's not bad, is it?"

He grimaced. "She's…fine. Gonna be fine." Depended on your definition of fine, but he didn't dwell on it. There was time to do that later. Much later. Instead he snorted at the enthusiasm as if it was amusing. (Well, it was a distraction; that was good enough.) "What, you send all your customers cards when they're sick?"

"Well, that too. But Maka, she was my weapon when I still went to Shibusen. You sure she's gonna be okay?"

* * *

"Thanks again for doing this, Kid."

"Anything to restore the symmetry to your head. It was so perfect before…" Kid's awkward fight for words was long enough to be noticeable, though Maka didn't mention it. It was a lot shorter of a break than Soul's was whenever he brought the topic up, and that, at least, she was grateful for.

"…your _injury_ that it'd be a tragedy not to try and restore it to its former glory." She ignored the pause. Everyone's concern had made her feel loved at first, then she'd moved on to feeling smothered by all the pity, to angry that they were treating her like a porcelain doll, and now, on the day of her discharge, grudgingly accepting of the fact that people wanted to pick up things she dropped so that she wouldn't aggravate her stitches.

Psh. Stitches. The things looked like staples. Giant, fricking, staples. Right in between her boobs.

"Um…thanks?" He mumbled a few words that could have almost been a 'you're welcome,' though there wasn't much feeling behind the mutterings as Kid had already relapsed into the trance of perfection. Maka decided enjoy the silence, closing her eyes and letting the feel of his fingers running through her hair lull her to pleasant daydreams.

It was weird, how calming the sensation was. When she fought her hair, it was painful and brief, a war of tugging, pulling and cursing between her comb and her tresses. But this, smooth long strokes that left a slight tingling sensation on her scalp, it was heaven. She'd never been to a spa, but she was pretty sure a spa treatment was supposed to make her feel like this. Wash the worries away with the dirt and the grime, weed them out like the tangles in her hair, snip them off like the locks that had grown too long and brush them under the carpet.

"Tilt your head down and close your eyes, please. I need to fix your bangs." She did so, not that there was anything wrong with the front of her hair. It was just the one side where…whoever her attacker was had chopped her pigtail off like some sort of butcher. That was the only thing _wrong_ with her hair, but, well, Kid had been nice enough to give her a haircut to fix the lopsidedness, so she supposed she could indulge his OCD.

Still, Maka wondered where Liz and Patti were. Wasn't it their job to knock him out if he became too infatuated with symmetry? She would've felt safer with them around. Beating Kid out of a funk wasn't something she'd been trained to do.

"I've heard," Kid began out of nowhere, "that you already accepted a mission?" She wrinkled her nose, his breath was deceptively bad for such a perfection obsessed person. Though, maybe having your breath smell like dead animals was a shinigami thing? And it was _cold_…

"Yeah, we're leaving for London tomorrow morning." He tugged a few strands into place, comparing their lengths and snipping off the rebellious bits that had grown too much.

"Why?"

"Why not? Ms. Medusa says I'm healed." He snipped another few strands, then tilted her head up to survey the difference. At the widening of his eyes and the furtive scrabble to trim off a few more pieces, Maka figured that he'd missed something.

"There's a difference between saying and being." Kid finally muttered.

"And that means?" She leveled him with a skeptical look, gears in her brain already clacking and clunking to try and figure out the puzzle that had been presented before her. Didn't take that long, the hint had been fairly obvious.

"You think something's still wrong with me." It wasn't a question. Maka hadn't known Kid for as long as say, she knew Soul, but she still knew him well enough to know when he was dreaming up conspiracy theories. (Which was actually pretty often. Although, conspiracy theories that _didn't_ have to do with an evil plot to ruin the symmetry of the universe _were_ rather rare)

"I'm wondering why you aren't waiting for Tsubaki and Black Star. Shibusen assigns partners after long hospital stays for a _reason_." That much, Maka knew too well.

"And as loud and horribly unsymmetrical as that idiot is, you've worked with them before. They're due back in a few days, and London can wait. So…why? Why go through the trouble of bribing your father to waive the supervision requirement? Standard procedure, you know that." Unspoken was the statement that she happened to prefer procedure and regulation over disorder and chaos; both of them did.

"I didn't_ bribe_ him." She'd just played the cards in her hand.

"You convinced your mother to have dinner with him, and the next morning, she hand delivered the paperwork for your waiver herself." He paused in his work, as if re-digesting that tidbit, and Maka felt her stomach flip-flop. Crap. "Which means that she's probably in on this too." How was this even Kid's business?

She glared, pushing herself away from the other meister with an indignant huff. Really, why did he care so much about her paperwork? Was it so wrong to want to prove herself to Soul?

So wrong to make up for the days she'd spent in the hospital and the scares she'd given? So wrong to want to get stronger? She didn't want to do this again, didn't want to be stuck in bed and pitied and _oh poor Maka. If only that Big Bad Evil Person hadn't hurt poor little Maka. Poor poor dear and –_ she just wanted everyone to forget about it. Leave her alone so she could get stronger. And next time, Soul wouldn't be stuck with her useless shell of a body.

"Look, it's nothing. Okay? I just-"

Enter Hurricane Patti.

"Makaaaaaaaa! How're youuuuuuuuuuuuuu feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeling!?!"

Crash.

Bang.

Smash.

"Hi Patti…ugh, my head…" When would the world stop spinning? And those little stars floating in front of her, those couldn't be a good sign. Unaware, Patti continued to grin from her perch, straddling Maka like she'd just laid the smackdown on her in a wrestling match.

"Wassup~?" From wherever he'd been thrown, Kid groaned and Maka had to feel at least a little sorry for him. At least she hadn't gotten tossed aside like a ragdoll. Patti was scary when she wanted to be.

"So how's it going in here? Is this haircut gonna take three months or four?" Liz sauntered in at a more leisurely pace behind her sister, waving lightly at the trio. Immediately, Kid's nose wrinkled, although it took a few more moments for Maka to detect the slight hint of cigarette smoke that had followed the older Thompson sister into the room.

"I thought you said you quit. Again."

"Stress."

"Stress?"

"Stress." She repeated. Kid looked like he still wanted to say something, but Liz cut him off with a glare Maka figured she wasn't supposed to notice. Well, if nothing else, it'd get him off of her case and onto someone else's. _Liz_, she mentally saluted,_ I thank you for your sacrifice._

"Do I wanna know?" And in strode Soul.

"No." Deadpanned Maka and Kid in synch; Patti giggled ominously. It was the kind of giggle that you heard from mass murderers before they slaughtered their victims, or mental ward patients when you told them they were crazy. Maka wished she could back away.

"Patti, watch Maka's stitches. The last thing I wanna do tonight is rub my hands raw getting blood out of your clothes because you were too rough." And again, it was Liz to the rescue.

"O~kay!" In a leap (or maybe it'd been a backflip?), Patti was standing before her victim and offering Maka a hand up instead of straddling her. "Upsidaisies. There, all better?" Patti cheered while brushing off imaginary dirt that had clung to the both of them.

"Yeah, thanks Patti." The weapon grinned and skipped over to help Liz yank Kid out of the wall in a symmetric manner. Couldn't have only one arm pulled on, could they?

"So can we go now? I'm not supposed to let you walk home alone and I'm _hungry_."

"You just got here." Maka deadpanned.

Soul nodded sagely. "And I'm bored already."

"Fine." She sighed. "We have to wake up early tomorrow anyway. Our flight is at nine, and I still haven't packed…" Well, at least now she had an excuse to leave before Kid started up again with the awkward questions.

"That makes two of us." Mumbled her partner.

"Hey, Kid, we're gonna go, okay? Soul takes forever to pack. Thanks a lot for the help! I'll bring you back something from London!"

"The clock tower, Big Ben, It is four-faced so-"

"Right. Big Ben figurine, got it."

"Ah-"

"I mean two. One for each side of the room, right?"

"Well that too. But-" Halfway through the door, and oh so close to freedom, Maka froze. _Don't bring it up, don't bring it up don't bring it up __**please.**_ She held her breath as Kid opened his mouth to speak.

"…Nevermind. Good luck."

"Thanks" She grinned on the way out, trying oh so very hard to control the shaking in her legs. Why did it matter so much? (To either of them…) So what if she wanted to be stronger, so what if Soul knew, was that supposed to change anything? _If he ever realized how weak you are…_drawled a smooth sound-alike of her mama, _would he really still want to be your weapon?_

Maka shuddered.

"You cold?"

"No! No. Fine. Just, not used to outdoors. Been cramped inside, y'know?" The girl grinned again and Soul rolled his eyes, taking the answer at face value.

"Er, so, I got you something. Since you're finally outta there and all. Here. Congratulations on not having to pee in a pan anymore." And suddenly there was a brightly colored box stuffed in her face.

"IDIOT! Don't say stuff like that out loud!" Roughly grabbing the present from him, she was only restraining herself from mauling him on the spot because he'd just given her a gift. Otherwise he'd _totally _be wall paste. Congratulations on _not having to pee in a pan!?_ What was he, six?

She ripped the paper open a tad more violently than normal, thrusting the trash at Soul as she discarded it. A book; the lime green cover wasn't a familiar face to her, but some of the best ones she'd read she'd never heard of before leafing through the pages. Maka did that now, ignoring the inner cover in favor of cracking open the book to the first page and starting from there.

Five minutes later, she was thirteen pages in and loving every second of it.

"So…I'll take it I did good?"

"Well. You did well." She corrected absentmindedly, flipping another page. _"School is too all over the place. It spirals out into a million different things."_ _No kidding. If it's not an extra-curricular landing me in the hospital, it's a history test._ Maka paused, frowning at the book. _I hate history._

"Thanks Soul. Really. I love it." It was hard to close the book long enough to look up at her partner, but it was worth it to watch him fight down a self-satisfied grin. Men; so insecure about their gift buying abilities. _And with good reason. He got me a spoon last year. He must have had help with this._ But whatever. He'd gotten her a good book, so at least **she** wouldn't be bored on the plane tomorrow.

"Hey Maka, your hair…" She glanced over to him, curious at the comment. What about her hair? Did guys even have preferences for hair length or were they all obsessed with cup size?

"It looks different." _Men._

"No, really?" The meister intoned dryly as she twirled a few strands of her now chin length locks between her fingers. "I hadn't noticed."

"Really?"

"OF COURSE I NOTICED!" Her new book made a satisfying **thunk** as it collided with Soul's head.

* * *

"Crona."

"M-Medusa-sama?"

"I need you to help me with something Crona. An experiment."

"Experiment?"

"Mmhmm. An experiment. Dress warmly _dear,_ you're going to London."

* * *

_So, I figured that Kami and Spirit are parents and should act as such. Yay. Um, any thoughts on whether or not Spirit was OC? What little non-humor canon material I can find of him is of him being super-awesome-overprotective-papa-Spirit. Sooo…_

_Plot twists are fun. No, not a typo. I didn't mean to put meister instead of weapon. Funky storekeeper lady has all her lines right. Err, she needs a name too. Huh. FSL? Fasl? Fasul? Dunno._

_I think Kid's true calling is to be a hair stylist :P I have a scribble of Maka's new haircut on my DA page, link's on my profile. On that note, anyone who knows what book Soul gave Maka gets a free scribble or oneshot. Whatever you want :P_

_SE 45 was disappointing. I'll leave it at that._

_Thanks very much to everyone who has reviewed so far (xLetitsnowx, October-chan, Raiken-Ryu, Iatheia, FallenRaindrops and Nenena) and also to those who watch the story! Makes me happy to know that people are reading my random bursts of creativity._

_(And apparently this chapter alone is longer than the story thus far. lol)  
_


	4. Second Chance

"_You're hiding something 'cuz it's burning through your eyes  
I try to get it out but all I hear from you are lies  
And I can tell you're going through the motions  
I figured you were acting out your part  
Once again we're playing off emotion__  
Which one of us will burn until the end?"_

-New Found Glory ("All Downhill from Here")

* * *

"Anything?" Maka shook her head, fingers still clasped and eyes still shut in her preferred pose for finding souls. Sighing, he returned to leaning against her back, half watching the snowflakes fall. This was taking too long, it was freezing out here. Maka was gonna stick to him like a tongue to an icicle.

"No complaining, London has too many people for its own good and I'm just as cold as you are." Freaky psychic meisters.

Meisters…

He'd been meaning to ask about that.

The streets below were empty, no one willing to brave the fluffy pileup, leaving just him, Maka and the snow. (He'd been meaning to ask about that too. She'd been discharged yesterday, weren't they supposed to be supervised or something?) Perfect time to bring up the subject of _Hey, are you really a weapon?_ It wasn't too weird a question, right? Everybody asked it at some point, yeah?

Gah, who was he kidding. A meister was a meister and a weapon was a weapon and that was _supposed_ to be it. Maybe the lady at the bookstore had just mixed up her words? Meant to say that she was the weapon and Maka was the technician? Because _that_ would make more sense. Kinda. Until he tried to add in the fact that weapons didn't end up on crutches like the bookstore lady did. Injuries like those, they were easier to heal while in the form of an object. It was a lot safer to weld a gash in a scythe than perform surgery on a living human.

Stupid Maka. Stupid storekeeper lady. He wasn't supposed to have this problem. _But you do have it,_ supplied a rather unhelpful subconscious that sounded suspiciously like Wes, _so get it over with and ask already. What's the worst that could happen, she hits you?_

Well, yeah. Maka chops were deadly. Worst case scenario, she gives him a concussion for asking such a stupid question and he's knocked out until they're halfway back to Nevada. He shivered at the thought…or maybe that had just been the cold.

_Just get it over with. _He reminded himself. _You're stalling._ No he wasn't! Well, not really. He wasn't **trying **to. Kinda. Whatever. He should've just done this yesterday. Not now. Not when the promise of another soul was so real he could practically taste the thing.

"Hey…Maka?"

"Mm?"

"The other day…I was talking to this chick, and she was saying some funky stuff." They were back to back at the moment and Soul couldn't see his meister's face, but he imagined a single eyebrow rising. Made sense; he wasn't really a touchy feely _let's talk about my feelings_ kind of guy. That was more Maka's thing.

"Like, she said you were a…" It was just one word, not that hard. "T-that you're a…" He was _stuttering_ now? What the hell!? This wasn't a hard question. Kind of pissed that he was being so wussy and very much uncool about the whole matter, Soul grit his teeth and proceeded to spit out the question in a single rushed breath.

"Are you a weapon?"

Silence.

"I…" Whatever Maka's answer, it was cut off as she suddenly shot up off the ground, sending him sprawling from the sudden lack of support. Before he'd rolled onto his arms, she was already on an adjacent rooftop and going through the motions to leap to the next. "Found him!" She called. "Let's go Soul!"

"_**HEY!**_" She paused, though her eyes didn't meet his. _If it was a lie,_ the Wes-voice said, _she would've just said so by now_. Ignoring the observation was easy.

Their target wasn't supposed to be that dangerous, human trafficker who'd finally crossed the line from bad guy to kishin egg only a few days ago; was only a half star on the ranking scale, probably weak enough that a well placed Maka Chop could take him out. They had time. Soul could get his answer. He wanted an answer. Wanted a few more answers.

Like why was she being so freaking stubborn and taking this mission before the bandages had even come off? If he couldn't protect her when she was healthy, what the hell was he supposed to do when she was already injured?

He wanted to know.

He wanted…

He…

"…Nevermind. Just…lead the way."

…He'd wait.

It wasn't like it was really important or anything. What would being a weapon change? She'd still crack his head open, he'd still poke fun at her chest, their souls would still resonate…But he wanted to know. Keeping something like this from him…it wasn't just one of those 'oh, you never asked' questions, was it?

Frustrated, pissed even, at himself for being such a wimp, he growled. "Oi, slow down. We've got time. And Ms. Medusa said to-"

"Watch my stitches. I know. For the last time, they're _fine_." Maka leaped over a chimney to prove her point, landing perfectly and continuing on with her sprint as if she hadn't just jumped a good two meters into the air. "They're coming out as soon as we get back, relax."

"Then I've got I told you so rights." Soul finally muttered. He doubted that she'd heard him over the rush of wind, but whatever. He followed her over the edge of a roof, wishing that he could've brought his bike so that they'd just get there already.

Down a fire escape that opened into a back alley, twisting through a few more corners (no streetlamps, of course. So he _really_ didn't wanna know what he'd just stepped in) sending a mass of alleycats hissing and scrambling away, Maka finally paused. "We're here." No sign, just a door that folded inwards with a well placed kick.

"I was expecting a guard…" She mumbled curiously from behind him. He shrugged, not really caring so long as they didn't run into the missing lookout. The last thing they needed was to fight a guy with a gun on a staircase. And what a small staircase it was, spiraling downwards and far too narrow for the both of them to stand side by side; creaky too. So much for stealth.

"Soul." Right. That was his cue. He was supposed to be a weapon now, so she could go charging down the steps like the long-lost one [wo]man cavalry. Nothing new about it.

So he wasn't all that surprised when she rose an eyebrow at his failure to transform.

"If you trip down the steps and tear your stitches, your old man will _never_ let me hear the end of it." The words were mumbled as if he actually owed her an explanation. Really, she should have just trusted his judgment on this. He started down the staircase before her, knowing that she'd follow.

And at the bottom, there was light.

It took Soul a moment to realize what he was seeing. He'd expected a sleazy looking guy, maybe a few chicks in chains. An auction block even? Lots of yelling and shouting when he and Maka barged in. A few screams, a few cries of joy, nothing big.

What he hadn't been expecting were a bunch of souls floating around aimlessly, a spectrum of colors from an innocent sky blue to the malicious pinkish glow of a kishin's egg. Hovering like they were part of some weird dance, all centered around the lead; The only human left.

Soul felt his blood boil. _That guy…!_

"What the hell!?" He shouted, hoping against reason that this was a hallucination. A dream. Anything. All these people, they couldn't have been killed.

"Oh. You came."

"Soul, that's-"

"I'm still allowed to kill them, right?" Maka seized his arm in a death grip, _transform_ _already! _She seemed to say, but her voice caught in her throat. Soul froze like a deer caught in the headlights because shit, he had to do something, but what the hell was he supposed to do? They-

This time, he transformed as he was told. Just in time to parry the first slash.

"_Would you like to watch some television?" The Maka puppet paused in her reading. Terrified. The book she held, it might not have a happy ending._

_The Lady smiled her sweet little smile and asked again._

"We need to get out of here." Maka's legs were shaking.

"How!?" She grit out, heaving upwards to force the black sword off of Soul. Now her hands were quaking too, and he was pretty sure that was sweat he was feeling on her palms. That…was a good question though. Backing up the stairs would leave them wide open.

"And why?" Maka added as an afterthought.

"The ceiling's too low. It'd be horizontal slashes only." He lied. Well, okay, it was still true, but there may or may not have been a more pressing reason to get the hell out. Maybe they could win, and maybe they'd fail. Maybe maybe maybe. But Maka was still stitched up (fresh reminders that he'd failed before…what if the trend continued?). He wasn't going to watch her bleed out on the floor again. Wouldn't. Couldn't. Refused.

They couldn't run away forever, but…just this once? Next time, when Maka was better. Next time, when she wasn't on a masochist agenda with the guise of 'getting stronger'. Next time, when things made more sense.

Pinky (idly, Soul wondered if he/she/it had a name) stepped back, head tilted to the side in the very picture of confusion.

"You're afraid." Soul couldn't tell who they meant, him or Maka. (But he would've been willing to place a bet on both)

"Why are you doing this!? Eating innocent human souls…it's…!"

"But now I don't have to deal with them." Maka anticipated the charge, meeting Pinky's slice halfway with a sweep of her own. For a second, Soul was grappling with the sword, pushing against it in some farfetched hope that it'd snap or crack in two. But no luck…gah, the bastard was _biting _him now…!

"_Maybe…just a little."_

"_That's fine. Come this way. Don't worry. TV is good for you. It's not scary."_

"_I don't like being scared."_

Maka whipped around suddenly, dragging him away from the clash just to slam him into Pinky's head like he was a baseball bat or something. Crud, what was their skull made out of, lead? There's a flash of red miniskirt as Maka flies by, using him as a springboard to plant a two footed follow-up to the sword-user's face. Oooh, that's _gotta_ hurt.

Her legs had stopped shaking.

And this should, in theory, be the perfect time to hightail it, since Pinky's busy scraping themselves off the floor. There's nowhere near enough clearance in this dingy basement for a vertical strike, much less witchhunter, and Maka knows that. They're at a disadvantage. This is textbook procedure, hindering surroundings equals ditching said surroundings ASAP.

But instead she grips him tighter, wordlessly telling him that she's not running; she can do this, she's strong enough. (That she can prove to him she's not weak; Not at all.)

He didn't have time to protest; Maka threw herself forward before the words could make it halfway up his throat, determined to keep attacking. (Resolute that she would not be forced to defend.) And he doesn't call the shots, so he can't really do much but throw his weight behind the charge, because the last thing she needs is for him to chicken out and leave her high and dry. (Which he never would anyway, because that's just not cool.)

"_See, isn't this nice?"_

"_Yup. Not scared at all." Maka grinned and watched the pictures on the screen flash by._

"_Would you like a snack?"_

He met the sword once. Twice. Three times, four…on the fifth, Maka _screamed_ and shook the thing off him, taking a slice to the arm but in return delivering a solid boot to Pinky's gut that had them coughing up globs of murky black blood. But she was holding him awkwardly now, favoring her right arm and putting too much weight on her left to compensate; not good. His blade was sagging way closer to the floor then it should've been.

"What the fuck Crona?! You're supposed to kill the bitch, not give her a papercut!"

"Ahhh! Ragnarock, stop that-! Don't put your fingers there!"

"Idiot." He growled while they were busy fending off their own sword. "What the hell was that? You need that arm, incase you didn't notice." Maka didn't offer an answer, instead she cracked her neck, vertebrae bye vertebrae, each snapping wetly as she tilted her head to the side.

"_Umm, excuse me? Is this supposed to be here? This black stuff?"_

Wearily expecting another battle-cry and charge forward, Soul was ready to meet again in another clash of sparks and souls, but was surprised when Maka remained still. No tightening of grip, no adjusting of her stance, she just…stood there.

And then she coughed.

"_Stop it! I can't breathe!"_

Or was it more like a shudder? He didn't have time to check, too busy switching from blade to flesh and blood, shoving Maka under him as the demon sword sailed overhead, narrowly avoiding his head. Instinct brought his leg out, tripping up Pinky and buying him a few precious seconds to figure out what the hell had gone wrong.

"_I can't…!"_

Chest. Blood. Soaking in it.

Torn stitches.

"I told you so." He croaked.

"_I…"_

Soul grabbed his technician and ran.

* * *

When Maka woke up, she was alone.

* * *

_So…thoughts on characterization? Anyone? Soul normally wouldn't run, I know, but with an unconscious/already injured Maka…yes? Hah, please point out any glaring out of characterness that I didn't realize was out of characterness. And feel free to beat me for it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger?_

_Hrm, now the question is, what happened in the jump between Soul dashing…and Maka waking up? :P_

_-is looking forward very much to chapter 59 that should be coming out this week-_

_More of a side note, anybody else think that the animation for episode 48 looks a bit…rushed? (um, need a better word. But yeah, the animation looks kinda sloppy. Like…Bleach filler kinda sloppy :P Or maybe I'm being picky?)_

_Final note being, thanks very much to Nenena, Pippin's Socks, FallenRaindrops and Iatheia for the reviews!_


	5. Do we have a Deal

_"Don't make that sad face,  
as if you've fallen victim.  
As if you want people to pity you."_

_-_YUI, "Again"

* * *

The hospital room was depressing. There were posters on the wall, flowers on the nightstand, and curtains around her bed. All so picture perfect and sterile that Maka just wanted a bucket of messy paint to throw over the walls.

_Blood red would be nice._

Mama hadn't come. Papa had made the ten hour journey from Nevada to the London hospital where Maka was laid up, but Mama had stayed at Shibusen. Or maybe she'd left on another adventure before ever hearing of the "minor" accident. Maka didn't know which it was, and didn't know if she wanted to know either.

It was probably better this way. Better to avoid the awkward silence that would settle over the two once they were alone, better to avoid the stumbled apologies that she'd failed (_hadn't been strong enough after all_) and that Mama's faith in her abilities had been misplaced after all.

It'd been stupid. Horribly stupid and dumb and idiotic to try and prove her strength in Mama's (_and/or Soul's_) eyes.

_But we can be stronger. We know we can._

First she'd failed as a weapon. There was a (now former) three-star meister in Death City who had been taken off active duty five years prior when her leg had been crushed beneath a falling tomb, bones and muscles smashed together. If only her weapon hadn't been so skittish and scared. If only her weapon had run when she was supposed to, and not needed the saving that had left the meister trapped under the rubble. If only.

_Unfortunate._

And now Maka was failing as a meister. Five years later, a weapon had gone missing, vanished into the night air after spiriting his meister to safety from the consequences her own stupidity.

The blonde shifted in the hospital bed, turning her head away from the dark wall and craning her neck as best she could to glance out the window. Despite the snow, the city was busy and bustling below her, and very much welcome as a distraction from all-too worn out thoughts of failure.

Distraction…

_TV?_

She could make a plan?

She needed a plan.

A plan that would magically produce Soul's location, let her get to him _unarmed_, and then get him back out without anyone noticing. Yeah. That was going to happen. Call her crazy, but the meister had a sneaking suspicion that this was going to involve more people than just her lonesome self. (Ironic, because this whole stupid thing had started because she'd wanted to get stronger _by herself._ Ironic, and oh-so-stupid.)

_TV?_

"Leave me alone." Shutting her eyes would have only made the picture clearer. As it was, Maka could still make out The Lady's faint image replacing her reflection in the window. The blonde turned to the ceiling. She must've fallen asleep at some point. This was just a dream. Had to be.

_There's no you. There's us._

"Shut up." Maka sighed, trying to twist her position in bed, as if movement would get her away from the voice. It didn't.

_The TV will calm us down. It's good for that. Just relax._

"I don't _want_ to relax."

Silence for a few beats. Maka prayed for it to continue and for sleep to just arrive already.

_He wouldn't want you to be so worried. Relax._

"Shut UP!"

Sid, waiting outside the door, heard the one-sided conversation. He decided to come back later.

* * *

Who to kill? It was a hard question, though it was hardly important. Whatever her choice, it mattered little in the long run, as the one who lived would be nothing more than an added bonus. She hadn't counted on . Medusa pondered this as Eruka and the lone Mizune sister gave some lackluster speech about turning the tables of the food-chain. To make her point properly, one of them had to die.

On one hand, there was Eruka. Decent with support magic, better with explosions. Though, there was the matter of her personality. True that she was devoted to destruction, but it was also true that she feared for her life above even the call of mayhem and chaos. And while sniveling witches were always fun to grind into the dirt, it got boring after a while.

On the other hand, there was the Mizune sister, one part of an entire clan. Five more attended the Witches' Mass on a regular basis, though Medusa had a sneaking suspicion that a whole pack of them dwelt just below the foundations on which Mabaa's castle lay. And though on their own they were pitiful things, if Medusa could shift the tables so that they were all working for her, then it'd be six for the price of one.

But they didn't speak unless transformed. A major drawback. What Eruka lacked in viciousness, she made up for in communication skills. And what good was a spy if they couldn't relay what they'd learned?

The Mizune sister it was then. Medusa dropped her lab coat easily, and with a snap of her fingers…

…She paused.

…_Unless…_

Well, she'd only been meaning to scare Maka Albarn a little, perhaps give the black blood some time to have its way with her head before allowing her the chance to resonate with her partner once more. Abducting Soul Eater had originally been a simple scare tactic. But now that Medusa mused over it further, why couldn't it be more?

An agent on the inside of Shibusen. An expendable one. One that easily could fulfill what little she'd been planning for Eruka. Maybe more, as she didn't and wouldn't trust Eruka to keep Crona on task. Maka Albarn had relevance as a research subject, and now Medusa had a larger set of experiments that she could perform. More data, better results.

"Fools. You intend to win?" She snapped her fingers.

And as Eruka was ripped to shreds, as Mizune squealed in a pitch so high that her terror was painfully obvious, Medusa smiled.

* * *

Crona was still limping as she touched down on the rooftop, so Ragnarok was even crankier than normal. It was such a pain to have a broken knee, he'd been whining, because it was so troublesome to fix stuff like that. Wasn't just blood, there were bones and stuff that he couldn't let go of and let heal on its own, because Crona was weak enough on her own, and a permanent handicap would just make her even more pathetic.

"It's this one?" She murmured lowly, waiting for confirmation of the fact. But the crystal ball remained silent in her arms, dull and unlit with the glint of magic. Medusa-sama wouldn't answer, and Crona was an idiot for thinking she would, Ragnarok reminded her from somewhere around her right shoulder.

It was this one then. Had to be. Crona wasn't supposed to kill anyone, and she didn't know how she could deal with getting the wrong house and then silencing the witness without lethal force. Vaguely, she wondered if that was even possible.

But the first window was slightly ajar, and the blonde girl whose partner had broken Crona's knee was just beyond its glass panes; Definitely the right one then. She entered without any resistance, slinking through the crack of space that separated windowsill from window.

Now to rouse her target.

"Wake up." The force of Crona's punch was enough to send the blonde's head crashing into the bed's headboard. Nothing broke though, and the green eyes had opened wide at the contact, so it was mission accomplished.

The blonde's mouth opened slightly, words trying to pass the lips and failing. Shock, or something like it. Having fists slammed into your face tended to do that to you. Crona remembered shock. She'd grown out of it, especially where pain was concerned.

After what had to be eternity, sound emerged.

"You?" The voice was shaky, and Crona could feel Ragnarok grin from behind her, amused with the opportunity to have the bitch that had caused them so much trouble right here in front of them, no weapon to protect her.

"Us." He all but cawed, his amusement bubbling over to the point that she couldn't hold back a giggle of her own. The blonde was right _here_ and maybe they could fight, and Crona could kill her and-! And no…no…no…Medusa-sama had said no killing. No killing. Ragnarok didn't remember, he'd forgotten on purpose, but she had to, because it was her job. (And because they didn't want to be stuck in the dark room.)

"Why are you here!?" The blonde's voice was still quivering, which was good, because the sword wielder could deal with fear. As long as the bedridden girl didn't scream, everything was fine. Crona hated random screaming. She hated screaming that had a cause. She hated screaming in general. Too loud, too scary, and it _always_ ended in pain for her in some form.

Neither she nor Ragnarok answered the question though, as Crona could feel the crystal ball warming. The magical channel that connected it to Medusa-sama was opening, widening, allowing for the transmission of faces and voices. Without looking down, the sword wielder knew that her master's silhouette had appeared within the ball's innards; The blonde's jaw was open too wide for much else to be the case.

"I have a proposition for you, Maka Albarn." And honestly, Crona wouldn't have known the voice was Medusa-sama's if she hadn't been told beforehand. This voice, distorted by some spell, was harsher and more gravely than the sword wielder knew her master to have.

"I have abducted your partner, Soul Eater. I assume you want him back. I will do this, for a price." Medusa-sama was curt and to the point, and the image of her in the crystal ball faded and bled into one of their captive, bruised and bloody. His wounds weren't severe enough to be life threatening, so it had been decided that he could be left as he was.

"Give him back!" The blonde girl finally yelled. Crona hated her for that. She hated yelling, and she hated it when people yelled without good reason, and there _was_ no good reason in this case, because hadn't Medusa-sama _just_ said she'd give him back? Ragnarok agreed. The blonde really was an idiot.

"Sell us a soul, and you'll get one back." Ragnarok tried in way of explanations. "Don't you love puns?" He hissed. Obviously, the blonde took this the wrong way, as her hands flew to her chest, as if they alone could prevent Crona from reaping her soul. Good effort, but not the point.

"Not literally." Medusa-sama assured somewhat sweetly. "All I want is that you do a few jobs for me. Work with my _dear_ Crona a little bit, reap a few souls, help me out. And you'll have him back. Refuse, and I'll just hold onto him a while longer." And, Crona noted to herself, that the scythe might not all be coming back to the blonde in one piece if she didn't agree.

The blonde's face hardened, her eyes narrowing and mouth falling into a frown; or maybe it was a grimace? She was thinking. This was getting boring. Boring because there was nothing to do, nothing to slice, nothing to slash, nothing to kill. Crona's fingers began to twitch.

Medusa-sama's shadowed face had reappeared within the crystal ball, though the only thing truly visible was a grin that spanned from ear to ear.

"So, do we have a deal?"

* * *

_Ah, hi everyone. Hope your summer is going well!_

_As you can see, I came back and added in this chapter. I finally decided that I wasn't getting anywhere trying to explain what had happened without explicitly **saying** what had happened, so I added in this chapter, so everyone knows. Sorry about the confusion._

_On the bright side, chapter 8 (Hah, for Kid) should be out relatively shortly (as in, it shouldn't be another 2 months...)_

_Anyway, I'd like to thank , Raiken-Ryu, Basil, Nenena, Firenze2000, Black-Blood-Demon, FallenRaindrops, and 629Spike for their reviews. Thanks a bunch guys, I really appreciate the reviews._

_So I've gotta write my research essay for Engineering camp now :P wish me luck!_

_As always, please please please tell me if you think anyone is out of character, or that something could stand with change. I'll appreciate it.  
_


	6. Do it Alone

_Whoever destroys a single life is as guilty as though he had destroyed the entire world; and whoever rescues a single life earns as much merit as though he had rescued the entire world._

-The Talmund

* * *

Maka froze, staring at the clump of souls, refusing to believe what her eyes were screaming so loudly. Her voice wouldn't work, the words getting caught somewhere in her throat -- wherever it was that they'd chosen to snag and catch. She couldn't breathe. Oh God. She couldn't have, she hadn't, she should've…Swallowing, the blond tried to drag her question out. Because…it…it couldn't…?

"B-but you said-"

"Psh. You're the idiot who trusted me." Maybe, if Maka hadn't been busy going into shock, she would've wrung Ragnarok's neck. (Not that she hadn't already tried.)

But…Oh God. Those souls weren't Kishin eggs. They were _blue_. (Dark blue, almost purple if you squinted, she tried to tell herself. Eventually, maybe, possible, they might've gone off the deep end. But they weren't pink now, nowhere near and…)

Raping a woman did not a Kishin egg make. She should've known that. Why hadn't she thought of that? Why hadn't she remembered that? It wasn't a hard concept, and here she'd been, swinging in all gung-ho and ready and…

Vomit, disgusting and unwanted and tasting vaguely of Blaire's burnt fish, sprung to her lips and it was all she could do to aim away and miss her shoes. Breakfast was promptly emptied into the alley in a pile of vaguely yellow chunks, burning against her throat and spurring tears to spring to the corners of her eyes. Soul. She wanted Soul. Or Tsubaki. Or Blaire. Or Papa. Or Mama. _Anyone_.

"Oh come on. You were the one screaming about how horrible they were! Hypocrite. Don't be such a drama queen." She didn't want Ragnarok, leering and cruel. She heaved again, now on her knees and bloody fingers grasping at the concrete, as if they could curl into the pavement and just give her something to hold on to. It was like the ground had been pulled out from under her and here she was, still trying to cling to it.

"It smells." Observed Crona. Feeling oddly lightheaded for a moment, Maka giggled, the statement was just so Crona, so obvious. Of course vomit smelled funny. What had she been expecting, roses and daisies to burst forth like this was all a magic show? The blonde snorted at the mental image and had to fight down an accompanying wave of hysteric laugher. _Or it's a dream. I'll wake up, and this'll all be a dream and Soul will yell at me for taking so long and it'll be fine and normal and I'll know I never-_

"Maka…for you." Holding out a handful of the souls, Crona now stood above the blonde. "Here. Say aaaaaah." Startled, Maka scrambled backwards and the sword-technician giggled, insanity dancing in her eyes. Every time she fought, it took longer and longer for that fire to fade; the blonde had witnessed it firsthand. Maybe it was the blood, or just the adrenaline, but whatever it was, once Crona was set off it was impossible to get her to snap out of it. The pinkette took another step forward, fingers twitching and frame shuddering like a puppet being jerked around by its strings, pushing the soul towards Maka once more.

"That's not how you do it! Gimme that, bitch!" Ragnarok yanked the soul away with one hand, grabbing a fistful of Maka's hair with the other. "Watch the master at work!" Without warning, the blonde was face to face with the other meister, uncomfortably close. Crona's blue eyes rattled like lottery balls, refusing to stand still and make contact with Maka's green ones.

"You have two options." He leered, in her face and close enough to spit on. "One, you gobble these down like the good little girl you are." Ragnarock paused, letting the lump of spirit dangle before Maka's eyes like some sort of treat, as if he expected her to snap it up from between his fingers. "Or we force feed it to your boyfriend."

"He's-"

"Partner. _Whatever_. Stop trying to change the subject. Choose." Ragnarok's grip on her hair was too firm to back away from, and the souls were practically touching her now, reaching out and caressing her cheek as if they _wanted_ her to choke them down. Maka shivered at the contact, half expecting them to jump into her mouth of their own accord. She tried to say something, protest, anything, but her brain couldn't fit the words together in any coherent manner. Static. She couldn't focus right. There were the souls, and there was Ragnarok and…

"You know, I wonder what he'll look like when we break the news. D'you think he'll hate you? Be disgusted with you?" Ragnarok spoke as if he was discussing the weather, but the chesire-cat grin on his face gave away the malice behind the words. What _would_ Soul think if they forced those things down his throat? He'd know it was all her fault that he'd never make Death Scythe 'cuz you couldn't be Shinigami-sama's weapon if you'd gobbled down innocent souls, consenting or not. She'd promised that he'd make Death Scythe. She'd _promised_. But she didn't want to do this. She was a tech, meisters didn't eat souls!

But she'd given up that right, hadn't she?

"What's he gonna say when he finds out that his knight in shining armor is running around, caving in poor, innocent skulls left and right?" Crona giggled again, amused at something that she wasn't sharing.

"Don't look now, but you've got blood on your hands. That stuff don't wash out easy." Hah. Funny coming from a guy who was nothing _but_ blood. She wasn't going to be using these gloves for a while. Maybe she'd just throw them out? (If she washed her hands, would the blood free itself from her pages? Or would it stain the crisp paper for eternity and she'd never be able to read again without those crimson blotches staring her in the face?)

Maka tried to look away, remove herself from Crona's vacant stare and think of something else, something different (anything but this, be anywhere but here), though Ragnarok's grip held her hair firmly.

"You know, he still doesn't believe you're doing this. Just thinks we're fucking with his head. The madness is tickling at the back of his head 'cuz of you, and he still says we're lying. Says you'd never listen to us." The weapon leaned in conspiringly, "But we know better don't we." She tried to think of Soul, tried to imagine that he was there in her hands, reassuring and real and comforting and…_but then he'd know what you've done. And he'd have seen you and he'd know you're too weak to stand up and fight and-_

"Erase the evidence…" the words were scarcely a whisper now and the blonde craned her neck to hear the ending, "…and he doesn't have to know." This wasn't really a choice. The game was rigged. Ragnarok knew it. Maka knew it. But it didn't really matter who had figured it out, because the scales were still tipped.

It was bad enough she'd left him alone. Bad enough she'd been so damn weak and let them steal him away and dangle his safety over her head like some sort of prize. (Carrot on a stick, and she was the ass chasing it to the end of the world) Bad enough that he was at the mercy of _witches_ because she'd been too weak to keep fighting. Maka couldn't do this to him. She wouldn't. Refused.

_But these were innocent souls._

"Give me those." She grabbed the first from him without waiting for a response, downing it before her brain could catch up to her mouth. Gummy. And kinda sour. Like candy. It was just candy. Patti loved sour candy. She should pick some up for her. (But not Maka. She'd never touch the stuff again) No real aftertaste hung on her tongue, just an unpleasant tingle of energy that her body instinctively knew shouldn't have been its to use.

The first one went down with an audible gulp, pushing against the walls of her throat as she fought a gag reflex. Good. Gone. Next? She swallowed the second without bothering to chew, because she'd never liked sour candy anyway and there was no point in savoring the taste if she didn't even like it. It wasn't that hard, like wolfing down icky cauliflower. Just stuff it and hope it was over with quickly.

_Be strong._ She scolded herself, giggles at the sheer unrealness of it all catching in her throat. _You have to be strong._ Letting it, this, everything, **anything** get to her now would do no good. She couldn't be weak. Couldn't afford to. Maka was sick and tired of being weak. The blonde grabbed a third soul. The worst part (or was it the best?) was that she was alone here.

No shortcut. No way out. No friends. Nothing she did would change this. Nothing could be done to change this. Not Papa's goodwill aura, not Tsubaki's homemade tea, not Black Star's autograph. No giraffe from Patti, manicure from Liz or haircut from Kid. No burnt fish from Blaire or exploding curry from Mama. There would be no Soul to put a hand (firm and reassuring and just _there_) on her shoulder and squeeze.

It was hard to swallow back the bile.

"Last one. Come on she-pig! I'm getting bored!" It was practically sky-colored, this last lump of spirit. (Where had all the other ones gone? She hadn't noticed…) Huh, funny. The body of the victim, that lady she'd been trying to save in the first place, was missing. She'd been in no condition to run after the beating she'd taken. And the blonde was uneasily recalling a split second where her aim may or may not have been off and a downwards strike may or may not have missed its target. So what if…?

Maka grabbed and swallowed without finishing the train of thought. No. She couldn't afford to think like that. Not now, not here, not ever. (But really, what was one more soul now?)

Mostly in a daze, the blonde stood, holding onto the wall like it was a lifeline. (When had she fallen back to her knees?) Her legs were shaking, some part of her noted offhandedly. And there was still blood on her gloves. It'd run down her sleeves too at some point. With a sigh that was more like a shudder than anything else, Maka turned her back on the alley and the memories that went with it.

_You know,_ The Lady began conversationally, _this never would've happened on T.V._

* * *

"I'm home!" Blaire strode through the door, throwing her coat over the back of a chair. Huh. The apartment smelled…normal. Nothing different, the same way she'd left it that morning. That was weird. No dinner in the oven or on the table. But Maka usually had it all ready by now.

"Makaaaaaa. Where are you?" The TV was on, but there was no blonde in front of it. Just the pink-haired girl who had randomly decided to move in. Quiet chick, kinda weird too. (Hell, who was she kidding? Crona was the weirdest of the weird freaks.)

"Bathroom." Supplied Crona before Blaire could ask. The sword-wielder had learned quickly that the only way to avoid coming in contact with the monster cat was to distract her with Maka. (And Blaire, just as quickly, had learned to not touch Crona if she wanted to keep the rest of her lives intact) "She's been in there for a long time."

"Why? Bu-tan's huuuuuuuuuungry…"

"I don't know how to deal with diarrhea." Came the mumble. Way too much info.

Or was it?

As Blaire approached the bathroom door, her sensitive nose picked up none of the tell-tale signs of explosive crapping. Not even a hint of the normal stink of an occupied toilet. But, a slight twinge of something else. Blood? Curious, the monster cat rapped lightly on the door, expecting an undignified squeak of 'Occupied!' What Blaire got was actually closer to a 'Mmmgrmph.'

"Makaaaaa? You okay in there?"

This time, she didn't even get an answer. There was silence from the bathroom, mixed in with the faint hum of the TV in the next room over, but no spoken words came forth. Sighing, Blaire knocked once more. "Maka, I'm coming in!" Hell if she was actually taking a crap, the blonde had been acting weirder and weirder after…well, maybe it wasn't all that odd, considering the fact that Soul was missing.

It took only a pinch of magic to unlock the door, leaving it to swing open easily. Blaire had been hoping to find the meister seated on her throne, face red from the effort of taking a crap and too much out of breath to speak.

What the cat got was an empty room. Until she poked her head to the side to find Maka cowering under the sink, knees drawn up to her chest and curled into herself. Clothes had been tossed about the room in a messy heap, leaving the blonde in nothing but her underwear and a blanket that Blaire recognized as Soul's.

There were no tear tracks on Maka's face.

"Hey Blaire." She finally croaked. Wordlessly, the monster cat slid the door shut behind her, relocking it with a wave of her hand. (To keep Crona out? Or to keep Maka in?) But in the blink of an eye, the hand was no longer a hand, but a sleek black paw.

With grace that her human form just couldn't grasp, Blaire silently padded over and clambered into the narrow valley between the blonde's legs and stomach, curling up like only a cat could. Within moments, it appeared that she was asleep.

Exhausted, Maka's head rolled back against the wall.

* * *

_I figure there's a lotta stories on the site where Soul saves Maka from tripping/disembowlment/murder/rape/etc. So I decided that this time, Maka gets to save Soul. From…something or other. Hah, if I told you what then that'd ruin the fun wouldn't it?_

_So…a lot of you probably went, WHAT?!?! And, yeah. That's warranted. I kinda sorta threw in a one-or-two-ish week time-skip if you couldn't tell. Why? Uh, cuz I wanna keep the plot moving, and adding in a whole chapter of repeat-angst didn't seem fun. I didn't skip anything **important**. Really. I swear.  
_

…_and cuz I wanted to get to Crona and Ragnarok already :P_

_Totally not for the shock factor. I swear._

_Um, yeah. Thoughts? Crit? Anyone? For Maka's characterization mostly. Blaire's too. And hell, tear into Crona and Ragnarok while you're at it. Tell me where I've gone wrong with portraying them :D  
_

_Much thanks goes to Nenena, xLetitsnowx, Fallen Raindrops and ElricKeyblade for the nice reviews. Thanks you guys, for taking the time to drop me a line. (Hey, I can rhyme!)  
_


	7. Yesterday

"_My teen angst has a body count"_

_-Veronica_

* * *

She was drowning in the static.

"_**Give him back!"**_

And it was so easy to forget. So easy to slip away and stare at the screen. The channels kept on changing, there wasn't enough time for her thoughts to stall and stagnate between the walls of her head. Eyes forward and mouth open, she stared.

"_**Sell us a soul, get another one back. Don't you love puns?" Mocked Ragnarok.**_

"_Maka…"_

She felt almost giddy. The worry had been weighing her down too much, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be free. Letting the concern float away like a bad dream just felt so _good_ that it was disorienting; her head was swimming from the bliss of the static and a sporadic case of the giggles wouldn't leave her alone. Mind-numbing and just so…

"_**Insanity is a science." Said the witch, her voice distorted and deep like the gravelly tone of monsters that lurked in the picture books and scary cartoons of childhood. "This is an experiment."**_

"_Come on Maka…"_

No. She was here. In The Room, on The Floor, buried under soft pillows and face lit by the glow of the TV screen as scenes from life flickered by. She was thinking about it. A paradox? By remembering how good it felt to forget, she wasn't forgetting…right?

Maka massaged her temples, fingers flickering between the pudgy digits of a toddler and the slender ones of a teenager. Which was it? The static was making it too hard to think, she couldn't concentrate (but wasn't that the point?). Hesitantly, her hand reached outwards for the knob on the T.V., only to draw back at the last moment as if burned. No, no, no…she didn't have to turn it off, she just had to…turn it off? Headache…

"_**And you, are my test subject."**_

"_Wake up!"_

"Wha?! Huh…?" Maka gasped awake, eyes flying open and lungs fighting for air. Blood was pounding against her skull as she fought to make heads or tails of the surroundings. No TV, no books, no Lady…

A dream?

"Geeze, I thought you'd never wake up. Nightmare or naughty?" Still waiting for her brain to catch up with…everything, Maka could do little more than stare sluggishly at Blaire. "You were moaning." The cat clarified with a grin that made her look like she'd just caught the canary. "So either there was a nasty monster chasing you in that dream of yours, or there was a nasty man saying even nastier things and _doing-_"

"Nothing." She blurted out. If possible, the cat's grin grew even wider. That sounded like a denial to her.

"It was nothing. Just some stuff. Boring stuff." Blaire looked unconvinced. "Stress?" Maka offered, though she was grasping at straws. She just needed a few minutes to think; sort things out before the cat actually started asking questions that mattered. Their (her?) magical tenant hadn't questioned Soul's disappearance too heavily, but sooner or later the period of détente would come to an end. Maka hoped for later.

"It's laundry day, isn't it?" The blonde didn't wait for a response, her brain told her to take the excuse and run with it, so she gathered Soul's comforter around her shoulders and grabbed the heap of dirty –_bloody-_ clothing off the floor. Doing chores in her underwear. Oh yeah. She was fine, not at all mentally unbalanced. But it was better than questions, and it gave her something to do. Distract herself with. Maka left the bathroom and Blaire behind her without looking back.

Their (or was it just "her" now?) apartment wasn't huge, so it wasn't like it was a very far walk to the laundry room. For that much Maka was greatful; dealing with Crona wasn't exactly at the top of her things to do list. She just didn't have the will or energy to waste on fraternizing with the enemy at the moment. She was trying, trying so very hard to find terms that the two of them could relate on. The sooner she understood Crona, the sooner she had a potential ally under this witch's nose, and the sooner she had a chance at snatching back Soul from the hag that had stolen him away.

Why she'd taken him, Maka couldn't figure out. There were probably a billion less conspicuous ways to force this random witch's bidding upon her without the kidnapping of her partner. Maybe it'd been for the kicks? Waking up in that snow covered alley all alone. All the screaming she'd done. That'd probably been a barrel of laughs.

Somehow, the thought that all this drama had been conjured up for the amusement of some sick hag didn't make life any better. With a sigh came digression. Laundry. Right. She'd done this before, washing out the blood. It happened, injuries on missions, tumbles off the bike, the occasional surprise period; she (_they_. Which was it?) had nicked some hydrogen peroxide from the school's labs a while back and it worked wonders on the nasty stains.

But as Maka stared at the once white gloves, she really wondered.

_I killed a man yesterday, Soul._

Would it wash out this time? Ragnarok's words still hung heavy on her shoulders. (She shouldn't be taking his words so seriously, it was practically his job to drive her insane!) All she needed to do was tune him out and play along with Crona so that she could get back Soul.

It would wash out. For sure. Just blood. Nothing that a little cleaner couldn't take care of.

_I killed a couple more after him._

The blonde wondered if he would've gone through this for her; The slow but steady working of Crona, the missions on the sly from the pinkette's mysterious witch benefactor, the informal house-arrest from school.

She liked to think that he would've handled it better. As in, charging in without a plan and without a worry and not a shred of this self pity that clung to her like a lost child. But that hardheadedness was more "her thing," wasn't it? Memories of holding her ground, stomping her feet and baring her teeth because she's a scythe technician dammit, and this is what she does!

_I killed the woman I was trying to save._

"Her thing" had given her a scar across her chest and black in her blood. "Her thing" had ended her up in the hospital and her partner on the MIA list. "Her thing" had left her as the lapdog of some deranged witch, fighting for a chance to break down the door and storm the castle to save…well, not her prince charming, but something similar.

Hah. She should be stronger than this. She is. Was. Will be. Something.

_I ate their souls._

It was stupid; Idiotic beyond belief. She'd killed before. Yes, Kishin eggs counted. They were human at some point, she reaped their souls. It **counted**. So she had no reason to be standing here, holding onto the washer for support incase her legs gave out.

Maybe her brain didn't believe her, but she knew all the same. There was no difference. None. They looked the same, bled the same, died the same. Their souls were still devoured. Rationalizing, she's rationalizing, some obscure part of her tells some other part. The one part clips back that she's also composing an inner monologue to her partner, so they had got bigger things to worry about.

Weak. Weak. So weak. She wasn't defined by Soul. Couldn't be. She was Maka. She could get stronger without him, strong enough to save him. She didn't need him beside her at all times to keep breathing. (No, but she still wished he was here.)

_I don't think I'm so good at this "saving people" business, am I?_

The blood would wash out. No reason it shouldn't. She tossed the gloves in with her white shirt, deciding to wait before throwing in her skirt and jacket. The woes of mixing lights with darks in the laundry still haunted her to this day; red skirts and white panties didn't go together well.

_I killed a man, Soul._

Maka pulled the blanket closer.

* * *

Tsubaki had expected to spend the remainder of her evening playing psychiatrist. Not that she minded. It was worth it; would be worth it, when the search parties returned with a certain scythe in tow. This was her job description, what were friends for after all? And the ninja weapon liked to think that Soul would appreciate it on his return if Maka was _not_ unstable from guilt or worry or something. (It was so hard to tell these days. Maka's moods swung faster than Black Star could write his name.)

Until Soul was found or (as doubtful as it was) Maka chose a new partner, the blonde was under some sort of house arrest. Well, city-arrest was probably a better term for it. Tsubaki had heard the official order was that there would be no leaving Death City. Implied was that searching for Soul on her own was forbidden.

So she'd brought ice cream. Double chocolate chip cookie dough for Maka and orange choco swirl for herself. Old movies? Check. Tsubaki knew for a fact that the easiest way to distract Maka was to pop in a horror flick, so although she didn't care for them all that much herself, it would help. Reassuring Maka that no, the couch would not eat her in the middle of the night was _much_ easier than trying to comfort her that eventually, some day, they'd find Soul (or his corpse) and everything would be daisies and sunshine. Really.

"Maka-chan! I'm coming in!" Depending on her mood, the blonde had a tendency to leave people standing outside the apartment door. She'd been in that mood a lot more lately, and since there was no Soul around to open the door…well, it certainly wasn't her fault that Maka's hiding place for the spare key was obviously under the welcome mat.

"Maka…chan? Hellooooo?" Blaire must have gone to work, her hat was absent from the coat-rack. Maka's overcoat was gone as well though. Odd. But where would she be at this time of night? The library was closed. The same was true for the small bakery that the blonde liked to haunt. Following her gut, Tsubaki tread further into the apartment, investigating rooms as she passed.

"I brought ice-cream Maka-chan!" Well, the TV was on, for one thing. That was a dead giveaway. The lights were off, but Maka was obviously home. The question was, _where_? Sleeping maybe? But no, her room was empty and her bed was made, not a rumple on the covers. The bathroom door swung open without a hitch and revealed a room without a soul, so she continued onwards.

And she hadn't been planning to check Soul's room, but the rather loud 'THUMP' and the ensuing 'CRASH' from within kind of gave it away.

"Why are you hiding in the closet, Maka-chan? I don't bite." The blonde grinned embarrassedly as Tsubaki swung open the unlocked door, revealing mess she'd made of whatever it was that Soul kept in his cubby of storage.

"Ts-Tsubaki-chan! I didn't know you were coming!" But her eyes had already moved onto a second human-shaped lump in the pile. Said lump shook off a blanket that had fallen over its head, revealing pink hair and blue eyes.

Her blood froze.

"Who is that?"

"Er, who?" The blonde didn't get an answer, so she followed Tsubaki's glance to the girl next to her. Oh. _Oh_.

"Oh."

"Is that-?"

"Yeah…I mean no. I mean-!" It was. God, it _was_.

"Why is the kishin who tried to kill you hiding in your closet?" Okay, so maybe her voice had gone a little shrill towards the end there, but she had good reason. Shibusen did _not_ train you for best friends hiding demon gods in their closets.

"She's not a kishin…"

"Yet." Crona amended, realizing that they were talking about her. "I'll be a lot stronger when I am." Medusa-sama said she'd be more useful then. It was a nice though. Maybe she wouldn't have to go back to the room, then.

Tsubaki turned back to the blonde, grabbing her by the shoulders as if she could shake some sense into her. This could _not_ be right. A dream. Black Star had knocked her out during training and now she was hallucinating. "Maka, she's wanted for murder! Have you not seen the posters around school!?"

"It's…complicated?"

Breathe in, breathe out. Try to calm down. Finally, resisting the urge to shake her further, she spoke. "Then I'll listen. But please, _please_, tell me this is for a good reason."

"No Tsubaki-chan, I'm keeping a mass murderer in my closet because it's _fun_."

Something told Maka that her joke hadn't had the best sense of timing.

"MA-"

_Thunk._

Faster than the eye could track, Crona's arm had snapped out and bent at some impossibly angle, planting her fist squarely beneath Tsubaki's ribs. The brunettes eyes bulged, and she had just the strength to stare up at Maka in horror before she swayed forward and face planted, unconscious.

"Tsubaki-chan!"

"I don't know how to deal with people yelling at me." Crona mumbled. "She was going to start yelling and…"

"Um, _hello!?_ We've still got orders you know! Go break the werewolf outta jail, posthaste. Ring any bells, bitches?" Ragnarok didn't seem to care that they'd technically been discovered, (honestly, hiding in the closet. How had she ever thought that would work?) and for that much, Maka was grateful. If Ragnarok didn't care, she doubted that the witch would hear about this…slipup.

But still, what to do with Tsubaki-chan? She'd let her get hurt and now…

"I just can't get a break, can I?" Maka finally muttered.

* * *

_So are the circumstances still confusing? Or have I cleared everything up? (Doubtful)_

_Ah, and sorry about the wait?_

_I would like to point out that I called Maka being a weapon __**before**__ the last episode came out. So hah. Sure…she may not be a scythe in this…but still!_

_About that…um, there's gonna be a bit of a contradiction with the anime on that point now, seeing as Maka isn't a scythe in this. And you know that "special battle armor" from the latest chapter? Yeah. I wanna use that. This is now officially manga continuity :P_

_I also apologize for the excessive Maka angst. Believe me, there will be crazy Maka and kickass Maka and etc Maka, just not till...well, kickass Maka is next chapter, but anyway, I really would like to know if anyone thinks I'm taking it too far on the angst.  
_

_On a side note, I would like to point out that a little more than one third of the section is now Soul/Maka, or at the very least, has them as the main characters. And it seems that whatever isn't Soul/Maka these days is Male/OC. I'm not complaining, but is it so much to ask for some Sid & Nygus? (which would make me a hypocrite for not posting any? Yeah, I'm still working on that)_

_Or at least, could I ask for some gen? Seems to be pairing central round these parts…_

_Anyway, I'd like to say thanks very much to Black-Blood-Demon, Nenena, ElricKeyblade, FallenRaindrops and Iatheia once more for the reviews. Make me happy you do :P_

_Time to wander back to finishing up exams. Gah, IB papers may be short, but I hate essay form D:_

_**EDIT:** And for the third time, I've cleared everything up. Chapter 5 now actually makes sense, I'd like to believe.  
_


	8. Dirty Work

"_If it weren't for my lawyer, I'd still be in prison. It went a lot faster with two people digging."_

-Joe Martin

* * *

"So I tell her it was a dream?" Black Star's voice was oddly quiet, cradling Tsubaki's limp form with an ease that came with the training of an assassin. Maka nodded, straddling the windowsill as she prepared to take her leave.

"She'd worry too much otherwise." Maka's smile was grim. "You know how she is." This was a nice way of saying that Tsubaki could've passed off as the illegitimate love child between the voice of reason and a worry-wart.

"I still think you'd be better off telling me what's going down." His inherent loudness returned with the words. Ah, _there _was that arrogant smirk that she'd missed so much! She'd begun to think that Black Star had been replaced with some morose and therefore poorly made clone. "I bet the great God that is Myself could do whatever it is five times as fast as you."

Maka sighed, turning her eyes skyward as if the ceiling could offer some answers. "You probably could. I've done a pretty good job of mucking it up so far." She really didn't have the energy to lie. And…well…Black Star was Black Star. He wasn't the type to go tattle. They'd spent toddlerhood and childhood and everything in-between as ones of the few kids who were actually born and raised on campus, you didn't rat out friends like that.

He understood what it took to be strong. Loud and obnoxious and just plain stupid half the time, but that didn't change the fact that Black Star knew that sometimes, on the path to strengthening yourself, you didn't have a choice which way you went.

"Watch it, or I'm gonna have to get all smart on you and say that you _owe _me an answer." The smirk was still there as Black Star said the words, but there was something else behind his eyes; something that was almost a warning, almost a threat. A little, or maybe a lot, unsure of how she was supposed to respond, Maka remained quiet, waiting for him to elaborate.

"All I know is that Tsubaki went to your place all determined to cheer you up with girly stuff, and she came back over your shoulders because she 'saw something she shouldn't have.'" The assassin didn't have the free hands to make air quotes, but Maka could practically see them.

The blonde's eyes narrowed. "I can't tell you." It was a horrible reaction, but nonetheless, Maka could feel her fingers curling into fists, preparing themselves for the transformation from human to weapon; flesh to leather and grey board. For escape purposes only. Really.

(_And what the hell was wrong with this picture? She shouldn't have been doing this. This was her __**friend**__ here. Two friends down on her watch? Things were getting out of control. They were they were they were. Horribly and utterly and completely, this wasn't right. Soul was her partner and she shared her very self with him, but at what point did this all even out…!?)_

The witch had made her swear on a bond of blood, Maka couldn't tell a soul, even if she'd wanted to. It was better this way. She didn't have to worry about blurting out her problem in a moment of weakness and having to admit how far she'd fallen, how badly she'd failed.

Moments passed. Neither one looked away, neither one backed down. But it was Black Star who gave in regardless.

"Soul better appreciate all this crap." The ninja finally said, as if the narrowed eyes and curt words had never happened.

Cue a raised eyebrow from Maka. Black Star, slightly flustered, didn't meet her eyes as he explained. "That's what this is for, right? Going and rescuing him from wherever?" Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Black Star's arms seemed to tighten around Tsubaki; for what reason, even the scythe meister didn't know.

"Yeah." The blonde agreed lowly. "Wherever." Aware of the conniption that Crona was probably going through on the roof above, Maka tossed a wave over her shoulder in way of goodbye and swung her other leg over the windowsill so she could grab the roof and flip up and away into the night air. (_Now if she could only leave the memory behind so easily?_)

"Girls are so weird." The blue haired teen snorted to himself, probably more for dramatic effect than actual observation of the fact.

Defying all laws of physics, a book came flying out of nowhere, scoring a direct hit the center of Black Star's forehead as if a target had been painted on it as noticeably as one of the assassin's signatures.

"I _heard_ that." Maka's belated warning floated down from the rooftop. When only a pained groan was forthcoming, she turned on her heel and continued the hike up the roof. It was _nice_ to have that normality, that routine. It was comforting.

Ragnarok, camouflaged against the dark of the night sky, let out a remarkably crow-like caw (wasn't he supposed to be a dragon?) as Maka ascended the tiles. Crona was sitting, playing with a (probably self-inflicted) slice on her arm and amusing herself with controlling the blood as it flowed up, then down, then all around.

This…was not comforting.

* * *

The man with the demon eye was bored. Bored of being bored. Bored of being bored of being bored.

A movie would've been nice. One of those kung-fu messes that liked to hang out at the bottom of the bargain bin in video stores. Did they still _have_ videos? Couldn't remember. Last time he'd broken out had been at least a decade ago, and the time before that, they'd still been using phonographs and shit. Give it another century, and maybe even the idiot witches would catch on and give him a TV.

Maybe this time he wouldn't let them catch him again? This gig was getting old. He hadn't been able to pull of the spoon trick, dressing as a guard hadn't got him far, the sewers had left too much gunk in his hair, and he hadn't fit in the laundry chute. There weren't too many other ways left to break out of prison. He needed something new to try, some new amusement to keep him busy another couple of centuries.

And of course, just his luck, he'd figure out some new idea just after breaking out. It'd happened four times before, why not a fifth?

"_Ksht_…This is Phobos…_Ksht_…over." Ooh, dare he hope it? Excitement. The guard outside his cell didn't seem to believe it either, staring down at the transmitter in his hand as if it had bit him. Regardless, the voice continued to float from the artifact. "Demos, do you copy? _Ksht_…over"

"Ah, yeah. This is Demos, I copy. What's the problem?" His guard answered with a slight shake to his voice. The man with the demon eye tried not to look too interested, but failed miserably. He couldn't help it. One magic word, and this joint wouldn't be quite so boring anymore.

"_Ksht…_intruder_…_I repeat, we've got an intruder."

Sweet.

* * *

It was easier to take down these guys. So much easier. Bringing down her encyclopedia on one guard's skull, Maka fed off the momentum from the strike to flip over his head and land with her knee jammed beneath another one's ribs. Sons or daughters of witches, every one of them; she could tell it by the unique coloring of their souls.

None of the masked sentries had a wisp of magic power within their bodies, and yet Maka could feel the twinges of undeveloped magic within their souls, linking them to the witches that were their mothers. So it was so very easy to substitute these blank faces with the shadowy outline of the witch that had caused everything to go so horribly wrong.

"_That's it," coaxed The Lady from somewhere as she ran a soothing hand down Maka's spine, "Just watch. Leave it to me. Watch."_

"She's heading for C-block!" Crud, she didn't need more sentries in her way. And all she had was her encyclopedia mode. Not exactly the best thing for the quick and tight maneuvering she needed so badly when fighting in close quarters. With a meister, Maka could change the size and weight that she took when she took her full weapon form, a book. She'd been stuck as an encyclopedia since her first (and last) meister had been taken off active duty.

"Outta my way!" Yelling helped, actually. Gave her courage. It was all like one giant game of leapfrog, where tripping up meant a spear between her ribs. Supposedly, all she had to go on were Crona's rushed directions. But the prisoner's souls all stuck out like sore thumbs against the backdrop of the guard's magic-infested ones; all the prisoner souls…except one. It blended in amongst the guards' frantically scrambling ones, and if it hadn't been for the odd soul's placement amongst the other prisoners, she would've confused it for another son of a witch. There was magic in that soul.

If that soul didn't belong to the man with the demon eye, she didn't deserve her soul perception.

Thin and thick patches of security were scattered before her, but she'd make it to that cell regardless. Her room for failure had all been used up in the past month, and now she would kick serious ass, if only because she had the will to. These guards were nothing but hurdles between her and the man with the demon eye.

"_Between you and your true strength."_

"Between me and Soul." She muttered while dodging low to avoid a spear that had been heading her way. Her breaths were coming harder now, and the sweat streaming down the sides of her face was sticking her bangs to her forehead and making it impossible to see properly without swatting at them every few seconds.

There was a brief moment where she wondered why she hadn't even bothered with a more stealthy entrance. Say, an air duct or something. Shibusen students weren't above stealing tricks from spy movies.

"_You want to make them pay. They deserve to pay." The child Maka hugged the pillow closer to her chest, nodding in agreement to The Lady's words. It wasn't fair for the stupidly mean bullies to go unpunished._

Pelting down one hallway and skidding sharply as she turned a corner, the blonde grunted in something that might have been realization, might have been confusion. Either way, the question was dropped just as quickly as it had come on.

"There!" Five, no…six more guards sprung upon her, Maka too worn to dodge the first fist aimed for her ribs. Mentally she noted to guard the area more carefully, the cage of bone could only take so much before it punctured her organs. Swinging around a materialized book, the blond planted its spine squarely between the eyes of the offending guard, drawing up her knee to ward off another approaching sentry.

One grabbed for her arms to restrain her, but grasped nothing but air as she let them transform as well, essentially robbing the guard of his target. A backwards headbutt left him flying into the wall; two down. Instinct screamed to hit the floor _now_, and she did so with adrenaline singing through her veins once more. Lucky too, the guard's spear soared over her head with a bit to spare, striking another man between the ribs.

Halfway through now.

Trying to leave the last half behind was easier said than done, and they dogged Maka's every move, waiting for her to slip up in some maneuver as she twisted away from their weapons. If the guards noticed that their target's blood hardened in place instead of flowed freely, they made no indication of it.

"_Maka dear…your program seems to be coming to an end."_

"Chop!" The burst of wavelength surrounding her book was enough to distract one of the guards long enough to drive the text into the man's side, through the arm and crushing the ribs so that he bent at an unnatural angle before he crashed to the ground d-

"_-unconscious. Keep going."_

She did so, suffering a wound to the side to saddle in close to one of the guards so that she could slam him into his buddy. The two tumbled and tripped backwards, falling up against the moldy grating of a prisoner's cell. There, that hadn't been too bad. Now all that was left was to find the man and –

"Now aren't you special? Knocking out the guards like that." Unless, of course, the man happened to occupy the cell next door. Though her soul perception identified the soul behind her as the one she'd been following, Maka didn't believe it until she turned to meet the face of the WANTED poster that had been her mission brief and objective all in one. She couldn't possibly be that lucky, could she?

Gulping, (the guy was _**huge**_, even crouched in a corner) the blonde shoved aside the nagging sense of fatigue that was hovering beside her. She could collapse later. "You're the man with the demon eye?" Stupid question. Moving on before he pointed out as such, Maka jingled the keys in her hand.

"I've been sent to free you. Will you come with me?"

* * *

_And finally I get around to giving you Maka's weapon form :D Thoughts? Was it totally obvious? Random? And on that note: Black Star? I love the guy, so any thoughts about his character would be nice. I know he has his moments but…?_

_And OH MY GOODNESS have you seen the new chapters? Last pages of 64? I was fangirling for Maka like no one's business. I cannot wait for this fight to go on. Epic incarnate it will be._

_Anywho, senior year has officially begun for me. Uni apps, homework, IA's…yeah. Gah._

_I'd like to give a shoutout to 629Spike, OshiMoon, Inkdotblot, bob, Nenena, xSoulRyder and Firenze2000. Thanks very much for the reviews you guys! I appreciate the time you take to give me your thoughts._

_Time to return to college apps :P_


	9. The Lion Sleeps Tonight

"_It's hard to take over the world when you sleep 20 hours a day"_

_-Darby Conley_

* * *

"So why-" The man with the demon eye paused to jab a hand through an oncoming guard's chest, "-would a Shibusen student come to free me?"

"Why would I be from Shibusen?" Countered Maka as she blocked a spear aimed for her heart. The _last_ thing she needed was for someone to connect the dots between her and the place she made her home. If anyone ever found out about this, Soul would never be rescued, and she'd spend the rest of her days in some stupid cell wishing for what would never be.

"You've got Death's scent all over you. Don't try to fool my nose!" The man with the demon eye boasted with a grin. Maka ignored it, since responding would probably only dig her hole even deeper. What was she supposed to say? No, no. That's just my murderous intent you're smelling. I only want to kill you and the stupid witch who wanted you freed. No biggie.

Instead she focused on leading her charge towards the edges of the witch's jail, back to the entrance that she'd blown in the wall during her initial break-in. Wasn't too bad. Just more of the same. It helped exponentially that on her side was an immortal with the power to freeze men solid.

Crona was waiting just outside the hole in the wall. If you defined waiting as killing anyone who got close enough to see her face. Great. Time to get this over with. She started to tell the demon sword that it was time to bail, but never got the chance as a fist buried itself in her gut.

Maka was out before she hit the ground.

* * *

"So, you're the witch that had me sprung? Weird one aren't you?" Said witch only smiled, humoring the asset that had been stolen from a silver platter. Men. So easily amused.

Bowing gracefully, the witch presented herself. First impressions and all that. "I am Medusa. It is my pleasure to meet with you, Demon-eye."

"Demon-eye? Huh. Guess that jail took my name too." He snorted in contempt, glaring at some point on the horizon that roughly corresponded to the prison he had just escaped. "But I'm a free man now, aren't I? So call me Free."

She smiled. Idiot. He would be no more free than Mizune once Medusa had her way. "Free it is then." No harm in humoring him though. The less he suspected of his terminal employment, the better.

"So, yeah. Thanks for getting me outta there. You need anything? I don't like being in debt." Honestly, could the man _be_ any denser? There was a price for everything in this world. In what fantasy had he dreamed that his 'freedom' was free?

"Well…" Medusa's face twisted in what appeared to be consideration for a moment. But as all moments did, it passed.

The shift of expression was abrupt and deliberate; her tongue forked, eyes flattened, and the vector snakes that made her body their home flared outwards. "Help me attack Shibusen." If Free was impressed, he didn't show it.

"Shibusen." He thought for a moment, and Medusa watched as his smile slowly expanded to be as wide as her own. Perhaps not quite as terrifying, but what could you do? "I never liked the rules set by Shinigami. I'll help."

Perfect.

"Something's bugging me though. What about her? Ain't she Shibusen?" Free gestured over his shoulder at the blond girl slumped against the rocks. Crona, for once, had not proved herself an absolute failure and had knocked out Maka once the man with the demon eye was retrieved. Hostage or no, the less people who knew of her employment at Shibusen, the better. Couldn't have dear Maka going around knowing that the witch who'd stolen Soul was actually sweet, caring nurse Medusa. Stein would probably pick up on it, somehow.

Ugh. That reminded her. She flicked her wrist. Crona understood the signal and slung Maka over her shoulder to return her to Shibusen. The blonde would probably be missed otherwise.

Medusa watched as Crona's black form vanished into the night sky. "She's an experiment." At worst, a dead end. At best?

Well, the possibilities were endless.

* * *

At some point, Tsubaki realized, she must have woken up. The ceiling had suddenly appeared above her, and there was no other way to explain its being there. And since she'd woken up, she must have fallen asleep at some point too, right?

When had _that_ happened?

The ceiling wasn't offering any answers, no matter how the weapon stared at it. Sitting up, Tsubaki glanced down blearily as she realized that for whatever reason, she hadn't changed out of her normal clothing last night. She could practically feel the imprints that the jeans had left on her legs, not to mention the gaping dent that her belt had forced onto her hips. Right. There was a reason she slept in a nightgown.

"What happened?" She voiced aloud, allowing herself to gaze around the room dazedly. Nothing looked out of place, it wasn't like the world had suddenly tilted on its axis or anything. Drawers were closed and unlooted, lingerie wasn't hanging out the window, and her walls didn't show any signs of abuse.

Though, it was probably worth noting that her meister was snoring on top of her desk. That position _couldn't_ be comfortable.

"Black Star?" She prodded tentatively. No response. Standing left her lightheaded at first, and a rather odd pain shot through her abdomen as well, but otherwise, Tsubaki was okay.

"It's morning, Black Star, time to wake up." Sprawled out amongst her papers without a care on his face, her meister was the textbook definition of a heavy sleeper. Sort of. Grimacing, the weapon wobbled forward towards the desk.

Tsubaki's hand had only barely grazed Black Star's shoulder when he violently jerked awake, trying to tumble out of the way and off the desk, but hitting the wall instead. She could've yelled at him all day to wake up without results, but experience dictated that once his personal bubble was breached, for all intents and purposes, her meister was awake .

Assassination attempts tended to have that effect.

"Tsu-_yawn_-Tsubaki?"

"Good morning." She smiled. "Sleep well?"

"Of course! Do you doubt my desk-sleeping abilities!?" Tsubaki thought of school. Of the mop she kept under her desk to wipe away the small lake of her meister's drool. Of the snore loud enough to shake books off a tabletop.

"Never." Black Star nodded at the praise, obviously pleased with himself. Obviously, he hadn't noticed the dangerous smile alighting on her features. "May I ask why you were sleeping on my desk?"

"I had to carry you in." Tsubaki's face twisted in puzzlement. While it may have explained why she was still wearing jeans, it definitely didn't cover why Black Star had camped out on her desk.

"You don't remember?" Black Star asked, prompting her to nod. "Geeze, I guess everyone can't have such a great memory as mine!"

"What did I forget?" She persisted, rightfully curious.

"Ah, I don't know actually. Maka brought you here-" He continued on after that, of course. Rambling off in some explanation Tsubaki couldn't hear. Because suddenly, like switch had been flicked, memories flooded back into their rightful place. Bad memories.

For once, Tsubaki didn't let her meister finish.

"Maka-chan-she-she! Black Star! Maka's in trouble! Horrible trouble! We have to help her!" Tsubaki was frantic, clutching at Black Star's shoulders as if maybe the knowledge she held would just magically diffuse from her to him.

"I know that! I know everything! Because I am-"

"You _know_?"

"Er, kinda. She wouldn't tell me, and you were kinda knocked out, and I was getting reeeeeeally weird vibes from her."

Tsubaki started shaking him. Maybe the extra blood-flow would help him realize how bad and horrible and awful this was! "Black Star, this isn't a joke! There was-in her closet-! Oh Shinigami, she needs our help!"

"What was in her closet Tsubaki? You haven't told me yet!" She didn't bother feeling stupid, there'd be time for that later.

"Maka has the Demon Sword in her closet! The one who sliced her open! And she didn't tell me why." Story told, the weapon took a step back, biting her knuckles in nervousness. "Something _horrible_ has happened to her. I just know it."

Visibly shocked, her meister slumped backwards to lean against the wall, mouthing the words to himself as to make sure he had that right. "That would explain a lot, I guess."

"It would?" Try as she might, Tsubaki couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice.

"Don't doubt the great Black Star's detective work! Of course it would!" The words and their accompanying laugh were too hollow for her meister. He was more shocked than he'd let on then.

Even though sigh that followed sounded nothing like the Black Star she knew, at least it fit the sudden emptiness in his tone. "Look, yesterday Maka wouldn't tell me why she came back and you were out cold. She told me to tell you that whatever you remembered was a dream." He snorted. "As if I'd listen to that." The proper wording was as if he'd listen to _anyone_, but details, details.

"Whatever she's doing, she's trying to protect us. And _I_ don't need protection." Ah, there was the obnoxious ninja she knew and had had the horrible tendency to enable.

"We can't tell anyone." Tsubaki whispered. She chewed her lip, unmindful of the fact that she'd torn it so badly it bled. The next admission hurt. "If she's really working with the Demon Sword, they'd lock her up, wouldn't they?"

Black Star nodded. "We can't let them do that, Tsubaki." Another uncharacteristic sigh passed his lips. "Not until we know why she's doing this."

"Maybe…" She hesitated. "…maybe it has something to do with Soul? Maybe the Demon Sword has him? Or knows where he is?"

He glanced sidelong at her. "You mad I didn't listen to Maka and tell you it was a dream?" Tsubaki's eyes held the same steel of her weapon form. They had to get to the bottom of this.

"Right. The great god that is myself should always listen to his instincts!" Ah, there was that grin she knew. The one wide enough to split his face in two; the one he expected to split the heavens.

Her thank you was implied.

Though…that _still _didn't explain why he was on her desk! Ah, she hoped her homework didn't smell like feet for the rest of the day. Honestly, sleeping on a _desk_, the floor was probably more comf-

…homework?

Tsubaki turned to check the clock, urgently.

Oh no.

"We have school!"

Black Star absently picked some snot out of his nose. "Isn't that giant test today?" Oh Shinigami, it _was_ wasn't it? Tsubaki had forgotten about it in favor of trying to help Maka through…whatever this was. She'd studied, sure, but now that she remembered it…

"We're doomed."

* * *

The spare key was missing or moved. Either way, Spirit didn't have a way in. Maka had confiscated his key a long while ago, and kept the windows locked for much the same reasons. As of now, he had yet to find a chimney that he could squeeze through.

But before he could even raise his fist to begin the barrage of begging and pounding that would _eventually_ get him into his dear daughter's apartment, the door swung open on its own. (Almost smashing him in the face, but details, details…)

"Papa?" Maka was obviously on her way out, and by the way she was frantically tugging on a boot and stuffing papers into her overflowing shoulderbag, Spirit was willing to bet she was behind schedule. She'd been excused from her remedial technician/weapon courses until further notice, but the standard high school curriculum classes she'd signed up for were all still fair game.

Although _why_ she thought that she'd need calculus later in life, even Spirit didn't know.

"M-maka!" His little girl, all late and irritable, just like her Mama!

The teen paused in the doorway for a moment, staring up at her parent as she finished jamming a notebook into her bag. But the moment passed, and Maka began to push past the man in the doorway. "I don't have time for this." She mumbled. "I'll see you later Papa."

"Ah. Ah! Maka! Wait! Papa can drive you!"

He couldn't, of course. Being the Deathscythe didn't stop the DCPD from impounding his car after one too many drinks. But in her hast, his darling daughter had forgotten her tram card, and she'd let him pay her fare, so all was right with the world.

"Soooo…" What now? Ah, um, eh, _gah_. Conversation with his daughter! Pull it together! He had fifteen minutes until their stop. Fifteen blissful minutes to cheer up his dearest daughter! Fifteen minutes to assure himself that there was absolutely nothing wrong, and that whatever Stein was guessing was just that; a guess.

"So how's the search?" Spirit cringed. He probably should've expected that one.

"Makaaa," he moaned, "Papa can't cheer you up if that's all you ever think about!"

"I heard that the team's down to five." Three, actually; but Spirit didn't have the heart or the gut to tell her as such. Sooner or later, the search for Soul would stop altogether. But he was determined not to be the one who had to break that news.

"Quality over quantity. Only the best for my Maka!" The trill was a little late, but, well, hopefully she wouldn't notice?

Eh, nevermind. With the almost-glare she was shooting him, it was impossible to think that the slip had been passed over. Crud. He made to initiate plan C for repairing his daughter's mood, but stopped short in his swooning at the last minute. Was that-? Yeah, it was!

What business did that bandage have being wrapped around his darling child's neck!?

"Maka-chan, what happened?" Predictably, she slapped his fingers away before they got anywhere near her neck, but he figured his point was made.

"Nothing Papa." Nothing?! _Nothing?!_ His baby was hurt! Again! Maybe she had never healed? Oh, he never should have signed those release forms. Never ever ever. Next time, he'd make sure she stayed in bed until she was absolutely completely one hundred percent better.

"You're hurt! We need to call an ambulance! Quick!"

"No Papa!" She growled, curling up into the crook of the seat like a cornered animal. It only lasted a moment though, because then the wincing started and Spirit felt worse than awful. His poor daughter was in pain!

And then it struck him.

Of course! His dear, brave daughter hated for people to see her when she was down. Obviously, his love and care was drawing attention she didn't want. In an attempt to right his wrongs, Spirit glared at the patrons of the tram who'd taken to staring at his display. Except the pretty ladies. Eh, there was Selina-chaaaan!

No! Focus! Spirit nodded firmly to himself, oblivious to the way that Maka was trying to shuffle away.

"Maka, what happened?" He asked as gently as possible, taking care not to add in any extraneous exclamation points. "Papa's worried." Maka sighed at that, avoiding eye contact. Was she feeling guilty? Guilty for upsetting him? That was weird.

"I fell down the steps Papa. Don't worry so much."

Huh, was that all?

"Well, I'd say that we should have Stein look at it, but I don't want my poor Maka-chan to end up with flowers growing out of her back." Ah. Ah! She'd giggled. He felt compelled to justify himself.

"He did that to me once." Spirit deadpanned.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Soul didn't bother answering. He'd figured out pretty quickly that talking back only drained energy that he couldn't afford to waste. "I think your dear meister was really pushing it last night, you look so _pale_." He'd fall asleep eventually. That was just how things went. Sleep, wake, drift through uncomfortable consciousness for a few hours, maybe sip some water, fall back into an equally fitful sleep.

"You don't have to answer me, Soul Eater. I'm getting everything I need from my own instruments." He could faintly hear the pad of her feet on the stone floor, circling round as she grabbed printouts from here and there.

"And I must say, these results are quite intriguing. I've never tested subjects at such a distance before. It has _so_ many possibilities. Opens so many doors." Her feet began to walk away from the encirclement, and he fought back disbelief. That couldn't be it. She usually gloated more.

Ah, nevermind. There it was. This time, Soul felt the smile rather than saw it.

"I think you'll be getting a visitor soon."

There were a billion ways he could take that. She could have been talking about that freaky mouse witch, or the Demon Sword who'd gotten him into his mess, or his brother, or Black Star. Hell, maybe it was the guy who serviced his bike. And yet somehow, his fogged-up brain could only reach one response.

_Maka…_

* * *

She'd been fifteen minutes late to calculus.

She'd spent half of Mandarin snoring behind a textbook.

She'd forgotten to do her homework for world history.

She'd passed the entire English block crouching in a stall and trying not to scream as the painkillers wore off and her cracked rib reintroduced itself.

And to top off her wonderful, super awesome, just so _friggin _great day, Crona greeted her at the door.

"We're going to the Baltic." Sneered Ragnarok

And that was that.

* * *

_Sooo, almost three months. But not quite! Ah, my new icon is of Tightrope!Maka btw. Notice the blood P:  
_

_Hey, is that the plot I spy? Sweet. It means we're getting to the part that I've been waiting to write for six months. But first, uni apps. Anybody else taking the plunge with me? Early admission results should be out in mid-december, let's all cross our fingers :P_

_I'd definitely like to thank SingerToPotatoes, Nenena, ElricKeyblade, Kashii Ai, and xSoulRyder for their reviews from last time. You've probably forgotten me in the last three months, but I haven't forgotten you :D_


	10. Relax

"_Cause I need I need a hand to hold  
To hold me from the edge the edge I'm sliding over slow  
Cause I need I need your hand to hold  
To hold me from the edge the edge I'm sliding past  
Hold on to me"_

-Superchick ("Hold")

* * *

Something was wrong.

It was a terrible thing to think, and far too pessimistic for her tastes. (And also, kind of vague.) But all the same, Tsubaki found her mind wandering back to that one conclusion time and time again. It was nearing midnight, and neither she nor Black Star had seen Maka all day. Seeing as they had been sitting at the blonde's kitchen table since four, this was more than a little worrying.

The idea was to make this…intervention…as non-confrontational as possible. Kitchen tables were good for that sort of thing. Especially when they had freshly-baked cookies waiting on them.

"nnn…shut up and…mmgh…bask in the awesomeness that is me" Black Star had fallen asleep on top of his homework, and she didn't have the heart to wake him, even if his drool _was_ making the pencil markings illegible.

When Blaire walked through the door at four in the morning, Tsubaki was still there.

* * *

"Where is Liz?" Kid dashed down the corridor of the ghost ship, one half of the Thompson sisters dancing close to his heels. Patti's answering giggle was a good sign. Roughly translated into actual intelligible speech, it meant something along the lines of _Sis is fine, she could take down this bastard without breaking a nail, but if she did break a nail then it'd be really funny 'cuz she'd fuck this guy up good!_

So he wasn't worried. He was just angry. How dare Liz abandon them and leave him unarmed! So what if the floor had literally opened up beneath her and swallowed her whole? She'd left him with only half his weaponry! And working with that was _impossible_.

"What's wrong Shinigami? Is this all the power that a god has?"

"But I haven't _done_ anything yet." Kid protested back, yelling to be heard over the din that was the floor being destroyed behind them.

"Then show me! I am a Kishin worshipping spirit. I've killed innocent souls, so I'm evil! Show me, Shinigami! Show me that power! Show me your judgment!" Oh, not another one. What was it with people these days? If something wasn't nice and cuddly and sweet, they immediately thought it was the end of all things.

"I will not damn evil." Affronted, Kid spun around and began jogging backward in order to better explain his definition of paradise. Patti started counting planks. "I don't know a single person who doesn't have a trace of it in them. Everything is a balance!" A symmetry, a line of parallel that could be drawn, an equation that canceled out to zero in the end. "There would be no problems if good and evil were at equilibrium."

"I don't care about your ideals or what a god wants! You think humans will all follow that?"

"Like I care about what they'll follow! I won't be satisfied until I create a neat, tidy and perfect world!"

The Dutchman drew back, surprise lining rotting face. "You're saying you'd take away other's freedom?"

"Disgusting. I am a Shinigami. I would never give others the freedom to kill, that freedom is only for those chosen by death." There was silence for a moment, until Patty decided to randomly giggle. It broke the nice quiet spell, unfortunately. Really, this thing's voice was getting so irritating.

"Try making sense for once, bastard!" The Dutchman began shooting again and Kid was about to point out how horrible his aim was when the ground suddenly disappeared from beneath his feet and replaced itself with open air.

_An explosion, he must have hit the gunpowder_, some part of his brain registered off-handedly. The rest of him was too busy observing how the torn up planks around him had created a perfect circle around them, eight pieces of wood that were arranged symmetrically no matter which way he cut them. _Beautiful! It's so-_

Patty started waving like a madwoman. "Hey Liz~!" Oh. There she was. Ah, and it seemed they'd been vaulted onto the main deck once more. Wonderful. He wasn't particularly fond of combat in enclosed spaces.

"Liz! How could you leave me defenseless and unable to use Patty like that?" Frowning, Kid paused to brush off the dust clinging to his right sleeve. Just enough so that it matched the amount on his left one.

"That's your fault." The elder Thompson deadpanned, clearly not impressed.

Behind them, the ghoul floated up from the ship's hull at his own slow pace. "Dut-chi-chi-chi…You won't escape!" Escape? _He_ was the one who'd shot them above deck.

Kid smirked. This would be easy, now. He could finish this in a minute, and then return home to check whether or not he'd remembered to readjust the curtains. "Liz! Patty!"

"Here we gooo!" Saluting, the Thompsons burst into pink light that reformed in his hands as the twin demon guns.

"Prepare your-"

Kid didn't get a chance to finish. One minute the Dutchman was sitting there leering at them, the next he had a sword through his head.

"-chi?" The Dutchman croaked in disbelief. Only a moment later and there was suddenly a person grasping that sword, pulling at it and slicing through the ghoul's head and dividing its body in two.

Kid had never met the attacker, but the utter lack of symmetry in that pink hair reminded him too much of a certain wanted poster that he'd seen at Shibusen. The demon sword had arrived.

And they'd brought someone with them.

If he'd cared to notice, Kid could have then watched the demon sword land on the upper deck and raise their sword to the air. Would have seen most of the souls around them blink and zoom away to land in the sword's open mouth. Would have heard the earth-shattering scream that came forth when something large and black and winged emerged from the pre-kishin's back in a burst of blood.

As it was, he neither saw nor heard the above.

He was too busy staring at Maka as she landed on the deck. Too busy wondering why a worn book had appeared in her hands, and where on earth it'd came from. Too busy watching as half the souls around him split away from the ship and flung themselves into the pages.

"Maka…" His mind drew a blank and the words tapered off. All the same, she glanced up when her name was called, and suddenly Kid wished he could read minds, just so he could know what the hell she could possibly be thinking. Because she couldn't seriously be absorbing those souls; those sky-blue human souls.

Those souls that hadn't reemerged.

"Maka, what are you doing?"

* * *

Maybe he's lonely. Maybe he's worried. Maybe he's been thinking about Medusa's words too much. But whatever the case, in between fits of lucidity, Soul remembers.

The scene plays out like a nightmare because it is one. His breaths come shorter and his feet feel like they're lead weights strapped to the ground that couldn't move an inch if his life depended on it. Maka's dead weight is slung over his shoulder and the only word his mind can process is _run_.

The dream pauses as a shiver runs from the tips of Soul's hair all the way to his toes. Maka is doing something; about to attack, about to have her mind ripped and torn at by the black blood in her veins. The weapon knows this from the way his fingers are suddenly shaking and the sensation of something bubbling beneath his skin.

_RunRunRun _chants a voice from somewhere in his skull, luring him back to the memory. But he can't run in that nightmare. Because the demon sword is in front of him, behind him, all around him every time he tries to twist and dash. _RunRunRun_, chants his skull again, but Maka's blood is seeping through her coat and onto his shirt and every time he turns his head and sees another demon sword, all he can see is his partner falling to the ground with her chest sliced in two replaying like some sick movie.

They can't have her. They can't kill her. He won't let them. He remembers that thought clear as day, remembers screaming the words that went along with it. Remembers laying his meister down in the London snow and charging.

And then Soul screams.

Medusa continues to take notes.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

When they'd landed on the deck of the ship, Maka had kept her head low and her pages open. It was easier that way. The souls just flew in, and she didn't have to worry about gulping them down and forcing each morsel to die down and submit itself to her. They'd still be part of her, but she didn't have to _deal_ with them. She didn't know how to deal with them, and didn't plan on figuring it out.

That'd been the plan. Follow her orders from the witch, move one step closer to finding Soul, move one step closer to becoming _stronger_.

But now Kid was yelling at her from the deck below and the new souls in her pages felt like lead pressing down against her bones. Shame, she recognized it as. No one was supposed to (was allowed to) see her like this. Where had he even come from! Why was he – this wasn't fair!

"Maka," He asked again, "what are you _doing?_" The blonde had to swallow back a slightly hysteric giggle. Really? He was really asking that? Such a stupid question? Wasn't it obvious? Couldn't he see she was stealing souls? Innocent human souls?

The shame returned full force, pressing against her tongue, holding it down and sealing her lips shut. Her head felt crushed under the weight of his accusing stare and she turned away, intent on focusing on anything but Kid's face.

"Maka! Answer me!" She (couldn't?) wouldn't. Her fingers dug into the worn leather of her weapon form so tightly they began to sink into the cover. There was an idea, sink into her own pages. Hope that he looked away and forgot about her if she shifted forms.

It would've been nice if things were that simple.

"Power, when it comes within your grasp, do you know how to use it?" Crona's words were quiet, and her voice was still hoarse from screaming. They stole Kid's attention away all the same, and for that, Maka was grateful beyond belief. "Where is hell? Do you know?"

A moment passed and Kid made no move to respond. "It's inside your head." Crona answered herself.

From somewhere within Maka's soul, The Lady laughed. _Too true._

"Get in my way and I'll kill you." Crona slipped into her battle stance, raising a much thicker Ragnarok and throwing open her newly lengthened wings. Eyes narrowing, Kid did the same, arms and legs snapping into an odd position that Maka could only guess was his starting point for battle.

"Is that so?" The death god twitched in his stance. "Let's go." He spared one last look at Maka, a glare that said if she moved he'd have to count her as an enemy, and then lunged.

There was no time to react. The blonde's eyes widened as a black blur sped past her, sweeping Crona's legs out from under her in a single movement. And then before his victim had even touched the ground, Kid had jammed one of the Thompsons beneath Crona's ribs, firing off enough shots to send her flying up into the air.

He paused to level both guns at the demon-sword. "Victory and the like, obtained through power." Pink bullets began firing from both handguns now, slamming into Crona faster than she could whip Ragnarok around to block. "Is that how you free yourself from fear?"

Crona was losing, Maka realized with a sense of dread. And if Crona lost, what would happen to Soul?

"You _bitch_! Get your ass over here and help Crona! This shit needs all the help they can get! You-" Ragnarok's screams were cut off as Kid leaped again, colliding with his targets mid-air and shoving the Thompsons against the sword-wielder's face.

"If you really want to remove your fear…" Rapid-fire slammed against Crona's face, throwing her up and away again. Boards splintered and broke as she fell back to earth, crashing through the deck with Ragnarok's wings flailing all the while. "Strengthen your soul!" Kid called as he flipped back to land on his two feet.

"Nice and tidy."

Just…just like that. With a few shots, Kid had gunned down the opponent she'd fought so hard against and lost so completely to. And now he stood there, without injury, without even a scratch, much less a fatal gaping wound.

_It's not fair, is it? Death reserves his greatest gifts for kin._

There was something wrong with that thought; something that made it stick out from others. But for the life of her, the blonde couldn't figure out why that was. It just seemed so different…

"Maka." In the time she'd been lost in her own thoughts, Kid had appeared in front of her. The fact that Liz and Patty remained clenched in his hands was not lost on the blonde. The death god sighed once, before snapping his head up to glare. Kid was _glaring_ at her, and not just because she'd messed with the symmetry of a room.

This was so messed up.

"Do you even realize what you're doing?"

"Of course I-"

"Because I don't think you do." Kid continued in that quiet tone that would've fit better with a world-weary commanding officer than the teenaged face in front of her. She bit back another giggle, because really this was just so, so surreal.

"It hurts for me to ask this, but I feel I must. Maka, did you have something to do with Soul's disappearance?"

"What? **No**! Why would you-!"

"You say that, but look at this from my point of view-"

_Kill him, no one will ever know._

"I'd never do that!"

"-those were human souls you just took in-"

_If you don't, you'll never save Soul; they'll lock you up and throw away the key._

"I know that!"

"-and that's something a kishin-egg does, Maka! _A kishin egg! _In case you've forgotten, we kill kishin eggs!"

_Just kill him. They'll never know._

"Just _**shut up!**_" For a moment, the world froze. The Thompsons still in their grasp, Kid's hands were gripping her shoulders as if he'd been prepared to shake some sense into her. Her own fingers fisted further into her skirt, from shame? Anger?

"I don't care how you got here." The death god finally muttered. "I'm taking you back to Shibusen. You can explain yourself to my honorable father." He sighed, looking too old again.

"Be thankful I'm _giving_ you a chance to explain." Some part of Maka dully registered that Kid was perfectly right to be angry as hell at her, that he really was being lenient for not trying to kill her on the spot. She'd _betrayed_ Shibusen.

But the rest of her was too busy screaming that they _couldn't do this_. Because what about Soul! What about the mistakes she'd made? How was she supposed to fix them if she didn't save Soul?

_Kid has his partners. His father. All of Shibusen. Who does Soul have?_

Her fingers dug deep enough to cut the skin of her palms, even through the fabric of her skirt. "You can't." She muttered.

Kid's yellow eyes widened in surprise, as they damn well should've. "What are you saying?"

"I can't go back to Shibusen. I've got to save…" the witch's spell was a sharp pain against the inside of her skull, gluing her tongue to the roof of her mouth when Soul's name threatened to spill from her lips. "-I've got business to do." She finished lamely.

Kid opened his mouth to say something, probably to start yelling at her again, but his eyes widened once more in shock and he suddenly pushed her away. It took the blonde a moment to realize what was happening.

Maka's head shot up as Crona's soul restarted its resonance. "Kid!"

"Screech Alpha!" The sword-wielder and her attack sprung upwards from below deck like some twisted version of Jaws, slamming into the death god with all the force of those human souls behind it. Maka watched in horror as the dark mass seemed to swallow Kid whole, crunching down on him and using him like a chew toy before finally tossing him aside with ease.

There was far too much blood. It arced behind him in the air, marking Kid's trail as he flew from the Alpha Screech's jaws and over the side of the ship. A distant _plop_ marked his entrance into the water below.

Ragnarok's grin shone at Maka from across the deck. "Thanks for the distraction, bitch. Crona needed time to ready Alpha, and that stupid death god wasn't ready for it at _all_."

"Kid!" Before she knew it, her feet had carried her to the edge of the deck and she was leaping into the air and over the rotting railing. Liz and Patty were with him, even if he couldn't bring himself to the surface, surely they could? But no, it was up to her because if she wasn't so _stupid_ then Kid wouldn't have been distracted in the first place and-

_All your fault._

Abruptly, Maka realized she was no longer falling. Instead, there was something slick and cold and black coiled against her waist. Ragnarok's tail.

_Because you were here. You made it possible._

"Hey, where d'you think you're going bitch? I'm not carrying you back if you're looking like a drowned rat."

_He must've been dead before he hit the water._

"Let _go_ of me! He's still under the water! Let go!" Ragnarok only cackled in response, drawing his tail closer and depositing the blond back on the deck. His tail still coiled around her, waiting, but it was loose enough that she had to stand under her own power.

"No. Nononono. _No-_"

Sinking into shock, the blonde crumbled to the wooden floor in a heap, grasping at her hair and tugging at is as if it was her last thread to reality. The dark water below offered no solace, bubbling once, then stilling.

"Let's clear out-" Ragnarok was saying, his words fading out like the sound on a dead stereo. "-better take the-"

The dreary settings of the ship's deck bled to black, empty shelves soaring upwards to fill the void and trap Maka within their wooden panels. In the corner of The Room, The TV glowed with the white light of static.

From her hunched up position on the floor, Maka shivered. Safe. The Room was safe. She was safe here.

"You poor thing, just relax." The Lady cooed with her syrupy sweet voice. "Relax and watch some TV. Get your mind off things. You deserve it."

"But Kid…" The blonde protested weakly from her fortress of limbs. Shushing her, The Lady embraced her from behind.

"You need a break. Just let me deal with all this. I can make it right." Slowly, ever so slowly, Maka nodded. Yes, a break sounded nice, more than nice. A break from all this crap, a chance to just _forget_ how badly she'd screwed all this up.

She ignored the part of her screaming that this wasn't going to help.

"I'll take care of you."

* * *

_A lot of Kid's dialog was taken from his actual lines in chapter 13 of the manga. Although, what he was saying in the chapter wasn't making that much sense to me…so I kinda messed with it a little. Just a little. (Hah, so for once, I know Kid isn't OC?)_

_On a completely random tangent, GO TEAM USA! I mean seriously? Beating Canada at hockey? ilu team US. Especially Ryan Miller. (but if you go by golds, NL is in 8th…)_

_Anyway, a ton of thanks goes to Nenena, Avia Jenith, momoxtoshiro, Miss Chocolat, Elric Keyblade and Kashii Ai for reviewing last time despite my huuuuge gap between updates. (I think it was about the same this time? Uh, blame Hetalia?)_

_Till next~_


	11. Unhooked Ends

"_If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane."_

_-Buffet_

_

* * *

_

"M-Medusa-sama!" Ah, that was Crona. Finally.

Turning, Medusa looked away from the printouts spread out before her. Priceless information, all of it. With the data she'd gleaned from one simple long-distance resonance, endless possibilities had been laid out before her. An army. A puppet army. Beautiful.

And to thank for it all was one simple girl.

"I see you've brought our guest, good child. Though, I do hope you kept her from learning the way here." Medusa's tone was light as she stepped towards her demon sword, but beneath the easy tenor was a sharp warning. It simply wouldn't _do_ to have any slips in security.

Ragnarok gave a thumbs up, grin wider than his actual head. "Bitch was too out of it to notice anything. I think she's high."

Maka, who was currently chewing on Crona's hair, giggled at that. And Medusa couldn't help but smile because this timing was just right; this state that the blonde meister had thrown herself into was just too perfect. Half slumped over Crona, the Shibusen student was really only held up by Ragnarok's tail around her waist and the grip her teeth had on Crona's hair. Such a quaint picture of madness.

The witch leaned forward to inspect her subject's glassy green eyes. Pinprick sized pupils, a noticeable widening of the iris, the blackened blood vessels, a general twitchiness of the whole area; the black blood certainly did appear to have taken a stronger hold.

Save for the distinct green color, Maka's eyes could have easily been Crona's own.

"She's trying to eat me." The pinkette supplied quietly, wincing as Maka bit down harder. "And, um, it hurts a bit." The last statement might have had something to do with the blood that was now dripping down onto Crona's collar. Maybe. Possibly.

"Head wounds always bleed profusely." Medusa waved off the concern with a flop of her hand, still inspecting blonde meister. Even with her teeth clamped around Crona's skull, the blonde was still giggling at some unheard joke, and the volume of drool was simply disgusting.

"B-b-but I don't know what to do about that!"

Rolling her eyes, Medusa pinched a point on the back of Maka's neck, causing the blonde's jaw to go slack and her eyes to droop. Beneath her, Crona noticeably sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Medusa-sama."

The witch didn't respond for a moment, instead grasping Maka by the chin, turning her head this way and that. Finally she let go of the face, stepping back to take in the entire meister. "What brought this on? Your original report wasn't clear."

"Bitch tried to kill herself I swear. Jumped over the edge of the ship screaming and crying and shit." Ragnarok was poking at Maka's cheek as he spoke, hoping for a reaction, but received nothing but a continued blank stare.

"So we pulled her back up and she moped and cried some more, and then she randomly started eating Crona. She just giggled the whole ride back."

"Hmm." Medusa observed noncommittally, circling around the cluster of bodies.

"So, yeah. Here we are. Brought her back here like you said, 'cuz that shinigami kid saw her with us. Dunno if he's actually dead or not." Maka's giggles increased in intensity at the words, and Medusa was beginning to wonder if the girl could still remember how to speak.

It wouldn't be the oddest side effect of the black blood that the witch had observed.

"Her reaction is interesting." It was doubtful that either Crona or Ragnarok would make heads or tails of her observations, but speaking aloud helped her thought process greatly. "Exactly what I would expect if we'd melted down her weapon and replaced her blood. But somehow, she must be using her own weapon blood." Crona seemed to be attempting to follow the words, if only for politeness. Ragnarok was falling asleep.

"Every time she invokes her weapon form, her soul has unconsciously been trying to resonate with her partner's, despite the difference. It's not used to acting on its own. And so has her partner received the black blood, bit by bit. The presence is minimal, but the psychological effects have been interesting to observe."

This, of course, led to the question of what a normal range resonance would entail, at this stage.

"Put her with our other guest. I want to see if the close proximity will trigger a reaction in him as well."

Today was turning out to be _so_ productive.

* * *

Disgusting.

Frowning, Kid shrugged off his jacket. The thing was littered with rips and tears, and worse of all, there was no pattern to the damage. No hidden symmetry, no dots that he could connect between the holes that would suddenly make it all the more bearable. Was it so much to ask? All he wanted was a simple pattern to fix his mind on.

"No luck, we can't find her anywhere." Liz called as she reappeared from the deck below. Patti was a few steps behind curiously examining the destruction that had nearly cracked the ship in two.

Sighing, Kid folded his jacket, placing it over an arm. He had others like it at home. "Any signs of a struggle?"

"Uh, seriously? We practically destroyed the boat. It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Maybe she went willingly, maybe she didn't, but either way, Maka's gone." Needle in a haystack indeed. They were lucky the ship was still floating with the way it'd been treated.

"I've contacted Shibusen, someone from one of the Europe branches will be arriving shortly." Leaning back against a railing, Kid fought against the sleep that beckoned. He'd let his injuries knock him out later, maybe when the doctors started stitching him back up.

"Yeah, you're not looking too good. Whatever that thing was, it had you pinned as a chew toy."

"The demon sword." Kid muttered, eyes drawn skyward. "They're a pre-kishin. They've fed on innocent souls. I could feel it in that attack. When a person consumes so many souls like that, it's impossible to keep hold over all of them."

Liz opened her mouth as if to say something, then must have decided against it and closed it just as quickly. But it wasn't hard to figure out what she'd wanted to put into words. They were partners after all.

Was Maka a pre-kishin now?

A moment of tense silence followed.

...And then Patti picked up the half of the Dutchman's severed head. "BWARGHHH! I'M THE FLYING DUTCHYMAN!" Said flying 'dutchyman' had fingers for tentacles and sounded suspiciously like one half of the Thompson sisters.

"Patti! Put that down! You'll-" He paused for a moment, caught in consideration. Liz knew she wouldn't like where this was going. She knew it.

"Or at least find the other half." Kid finally conceded.

* * *

They'd unhooked him.

They'd detached him from the drip in his arm and from the straps on the chair, and no one was telling him a damn thing. Or they were, and he couldn't hear them. Too busy feeling stuff, other stuff. Like the pounding in his ears and the desert in his throat and the blue-purple-yellow paintings on his wrists.

Damn his head hurt.

Oh, hey, was that the ceiling? Since when had he been looking up anyway? It was all grainy, and stuff. And leaky. And black. Kinda looked like clouds. Really messed up.

Argh.

Coherency would've been nice.

So busy was Soul, staring at the ceiling, that he almost missed the creak of the door. As it was, he didn't bother looking anyway. Maybe they'd given him food, maybe someone was coming in to hook him back up, maybe they had some new drug or potion or whatever to test out on him, who knew.

"M'tired." Honestly, he wasn't up for whatever shit this witch had planned for him now. Really.

Only a dull thump answered him. The door clattered close without so much as a word passing between Soul and…whoever that'd been, and he was totally cool with that. More sleeping time. Resting time.

And then the lump in the corner of the room giggled.

Soul knew that voice.

Turning his head to the side took far too much effort. It was all he could do to keep his face from smashing into the floor, but lo and behold, he managed it. Somehow. And thus was Soul rewarded for his effort.

For there, right across the room and half-slumped against the wall, was his meister. Her hair was a mess and her uniform looked worse for wear, but it was her all the same.

"Maka?" He breathed, still waiting for the part where this turned into a nightmare. The blonde giggled at his question, still slumped over. But maybe it wasn't a giggle. Maybe it was a sob? Crying? Was she crying?

Her head shifted, and Soul caught a glimpse of green eyes.

"Shit, it _is_ you!" Lethargy all but forgotten, the weapon struggled to scramble onto his hands and knees. They were only a few meters apart on the hard ground, but it seemed to take so _long_ to pull himself over to where Maka sat.

But she was here. _Here_, in this hellhole with him.

He wasn't sure if he was really all too happy about that.

"Hey, look at me! Maka!" Not quite there yet, but he grabbed at her coat, hoping to snap her out of whatever daze she was trapped in. No luck. Only that giggle remained; and it was getting creepier by the minute. When she began to twitch violently, the weapon knew something was wrong.

Panic was creeping up within him as Soul was finally able to gather the girl in his arms and still she remained limp as a rag doll. The bags under her eyes were none too comforting, and she seemed suspiciously lighter than when he'd seen her last.

Then again, Soul realized, he probably didn't look too great either.

"Jeeze, what'd they do to you?" He breathed, grabbing his meister by the shoulders as if to stop her twitching. Instead the blonde only cocked her head to the side, cracking vertebrae as it rotated an almost full ninety degrees to the right.

"Doooooooooooooooooo~?" She drew out, grin still grinning wider than should have been possible.

"Yeah, what'd they…" Too impatient to try explaining, Soul quickly ran his fingers over her scalp, feeling for any scabs or scars or open wounds that could've spoken of a recent head trauma. Blunt object, sharp point, he didn't care. All he wanted was an answer why his meister was suddenly swaying like a drunkard and twitching like a druggie.

As he continued his investigation, Maka's face was pushed up against his shoulder bit by bit. Soul was too busy panicking to notice the closeness, and the meister had other things on her mind.

Namely, _I'm hungry_.

And so she bit down.

Yelping in surprise, Soul pushed the blonde off of him out of reflex. She tumbled back without much resistance, still acting like she had wet noodles for bones. Where the hell had that come from! It'd more surprised him than hurt, but still!

"You pushed me." Maka stated slowly. It was the first sentence she'd spoken, the first coherent jumble of words that had left her mouth since she'd entered the room. He should've been glad that she could still speak, that they hadn't messed with her head so bad that she was mute or deaf or something.

But for some reason, Soul didn't feel any better.

"You were biting me!" His legs still felt too much like jelly to be stood on. Maka, however, seemed to have no qualms getting to her feet. She swayed dangerously a few times while doing so, but in all, was standing at the end of it.

"You pushed me." She accused again. Somehow, he'd missed the glassiness of her eyes before. They could've been filmed over and dead for the lack of life that was shining through.

And since when, Soul wondered, had that book been in her hand?

"Maka…" He cautioned, for some reason backing further up against the wall. A smile had worked itself back onto her face, and it was anything but comforting.

"You _pushed _me."

She raised the book.

* * *

_Geeze, you know your fic has crossed the line into serious angst territory when you start considering Within Temptation lyrics for the opening quote. That angst is mostly why this took so long. That and Hetalia._

_Anyway, thanks goes to StoppingMotors, Tikigod784, Hitoryan, Miss Chocolat and Nenena for the reviews on 10. Sorry again for the gap. End of year is a killer. (But hey! Summer is now upon us, and that means the sun and the beach and lacrosse and…oh…more non-fanfic stuff) Special thanks to Cheletiba, who rec'd this on TV tropes. Seriously, never thought that'd happen. I'm sorry if I didn't reply to anyone's review, super busy over here._

_But hey, in the interim between updates, I got into uni. In the US. It's gonna be so weird living there O: Everything's kinda sorta really huge._

_Till next._


	12. Scared You

"Haha, I scaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaared you."

It took a second, but bit by bit, Soul realized that he wasn't dead. Nor was his skull caved in. These were good things. Risking a revelation that he actually had been murdered and that his dead body would be laid out before him, the weapon cracked open an eye. Right, still the same stupid cell. That was a start. Giggling Maka? Check. Lame-ass throbbing in his head? Check. Solid and unharmed-ish body? As far as he could tell, check.

Slowly, Soul remembered to breathe.

Still giggling, Maka slumped back onto her knees. Her book was gone, for now. Soul wished that the feeling he was dead meat would evaporate just as easily. Still no luck with that though; if it was anything to go by, his legs were still shaking.

"Hey. Heyyyyyyyyyy. Hey. Soul. Hey." She was lying on her back now, staring over at him with those too blank eyes again. Hell, what had that witch _done_ to her? They'd had him jacked up on some pretty nasty stuff, so what had they shot in her?

And Hell, it wasn't like he wanted to hurt her or anything, but Soul would've felt so much better if he'd been able to transform. Even just a little bit. Scythes didn't have to worry about their skulls caving in.

"What?" He managed to choke out, dreading another book scare. Maybe, just for now, it'd be okay for them to have a few feet between them. Just in case.

There was silence for a few beats as Maka's smile widened to show far too many teeth.

"CHICKEN BUTT!" The blonde cawed triumphantly, like it was a great punch line to some joke at his expense. What he would've given for it all to be a joke.

"Haha, didja hear that? I said _butt_!" She was actually rolling on the floor laughing. His meister was actually _rofling_, some distant part of his brain pointed out. Friggin' rofling. God what a stupid thought.

Maybe he was a little funnier in the head than he thought.

"Was that it?" He grit out, trying to ignore the way her laugh was hammering against his skull. Would've killed for some asprin.

"It?" Maka echoed in-between giggles.

"Yeah, was that what–"

"CHICKEN BUTT!"

"–you were trying to say. Nevermind." Every time her fist hit the ground in laughter a new dent formed. Or maybe that was just his vision going spotty.

"No, no, nononono seriously." She gasped out between peals of laughter. "I got something to tell you."

"Something to tell me?" Soul picked his words as carefully as his stupidly throbbing brain would let him. Nothing was making any sense and he couldn't figure out if it was the drugs or the shock.

"A seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeecret." Confirmed Maka. And then she began to inch closer. Still laying on her back, it was slow going, but she was still moving towards him again. And that…that was…hell he couldn't think straight so how the hell was he supposed to know?

It was only when his head hit the wall that Soul realized he'd started backing up.

"Imma weapon y'know. I can bash people's brains in better than you can! You're all sharp and pointy, but I'm blunt and heavy and I can break stuff sooooooo much easier. Shatters like glass! Isn't that _awesome_?" She kept pushing across the floor, maybe completely missing how Soul had been edging away from her.

On a random note: He'd totally called that one! Why did no one _tell_ him shit like this?

A hush fell over the cell as she continued to scrape along the floor, save for a few uttered train noises that really had no business coming from Maka's mouth. His meister stopped once her head bumped against his legs and she stared at him for another minute, eyes still blank and face still upside down.

And suddenly there was a book in his face.

"Holy crap!" Dammit she was laughing again. _Giggling_ in a kinda-sorta-oh-shit unhinged way. That thing was barely an inch from his face!

"See? Book. Haha, I scared you didn't I? This thing could kill you y'know. One swipe and _poof!_ Pink splattered guts and gore and cotton candy. Mmmm."

Uneasily, Soul took note of offered transformed arm. From a distance it had looked like she was holding it, but now with the thing shoved in his face he could see how her wrist simply became the book spine.

But if that was her midform, then what did she look like when fully transformed?

"M'useless with no meister, yanno? Can only go halfway without one and it suuuuuuucks. Pfft, and who wants a book? But they dunno. I'll tell you a secret they dunno Soul. Another one, juuuuuuust for you."

Licking her lips, the blonde smiled and Soul felt his stomach drop. In fear? This was his meister and why the hell was his stupid stomach doing flips?

"This stupid useless book killed a buuuuuunch of people, all for you. _Just_ for you."

* * *

"Of course Maka's been weird-nya. Shuffles around the house and does laundry in her underwear. And she nya-ver lets me do that…"

Tsubaki wasn't quite sure which the odder sight was. Blaire cooking breakfast, or Blaire wearing something that actually hid her cleavage – the something in this case being puffy purple apron, decorated accordingly with pumpkins and stars that actually danced.

"They go looking for Soul all the time. That's what Maka says. 'Cept that other one's really weird about it and hates it when I pop into her lap."

"When did, um, 'that other one', start living here?" Tsubaki questioned. Black Star would have probably preferred to be doing this interrogation, but he was a bit busy with his second helping of eggs.

"Mmm, a little bit after Soul disappeared. I think that's when it started nya." How could Black Star even eat? Tsubaki was too nervous about this sudden turn of events to do much more than push her eggs around her plate.

"Mmmghfrffer mneey?" Mmmdf!"

"Black Star, please, don't talk with your mouth full." The weapon admonished, because after the eight hundredth and forty second time reminding him, he might actually remember that he couldn't talk and eat at the same time?

With an exaggerated gulp, her meister swallowed down the rest of his plate, belching loudly to mark the end of his meal. At this rate, she'd never be able to take him to meet her parents.

"I _said, _did you tip her off we'd be here or something? Cuz she's taking forever!"

"Nya! You think this is my fault? You're the ones that broke in. If anything, you scared her away!"

"Scared her away? We're her friends!" The outburst came before Tsubaki could stop herself. But really! For Blaire to suggest such a thing…

"And that's exactly why she makes me tell you that she's sleeping every time you call!" Blaire finished with a grin, obviously proud of her evidence.

"She what?"

Realization dawned on Blaire's face. "Oops…I don't think I was supposed to say that."

"Maka's so _weird_." Black Star chimed in. Wait, no, don't go off topic! Go back to the avoiding us part! Tsubaki wanted to scream.

"But she should be home by nyaoooooooow. I have a date with her Papa tonight and he'll be so _depressed_ if I don't know where she is! And then my boss will yell and be all scary and ugh!"

"Blaire, if Maka really is missing I don't think–"

"Nyaaaaaa, Tsubaki what'll I do if my boss fires me because I can't make Maka's Papa happy? I won't have anything to spend on pretty new clothes and Super Sexy Secrets Monthly has their new line coming out next week and I won't be able to buy it!"

"I'm sure it'll be okay Blaire!" Now calm down or else we'll have a real problem and you still haven't told us anything useful! Like where Maka might be! Or even where she'd gone! These were things that Tsubaki wished she could say.

And she was about two seconds away from standing up and simply shaking the cat to get the answers she wanted when Blaire suddenly stiffened, ears perking up oh so slightly. Next to her, Tsubaki heard the scrape of the chair against the floor as her meister stood up. His head was cocked to the side, listening.

"Black Star?"

"Someone's coming" And that wouldn't have been a problem if Maka had been there sitting next to them and adhering to her house arrest.

Blaire had relaxed though, and was smiling ever so slightly.

"It's–"

"MAKAAAAAAAAAAAAA! PAPA IS HERE TO SAVE YOU~!"

* * *

Maka was sleeping. She'd giggled and snorted and freaked him the hell out, and gone on about killing people (for him?) and then she'd just fallen over and asleep. Limbs sprawled against the floor, glassy eyes squeezed shut and snoring softly, his meister looked…normal. Like she had before this. Before that stupid church in Italy and that doomed mission in England. Before whatever that witch had done to her.

He needed to get her out of here.

Experimentally, Soul tried to transform. Anything would do, even something as simple as the full transformation. No luck. Whatever that witch had pumped him full of to keep him sedated hadn't made its way through his system yet. Then again, the metal of his weapon of form probably wouldn't have done much against their stone cell anyway.

Plan B time.

Right. What was plan B? Come on, his head had cleared up enough to at least come up with a plan B, right?

"Enjoy your get together?" Plan B: Kill the witch.

"What'd you _do_ to her!" Soul all but roared in the direction of the door. She must've been right by the door, possibly listening to everything that'd gone on, death threats and all.

"Ah ah, careful. Don't want to wake up your meister, do we?" As if responding to the witch's jibe, Maka shifted slightly in sleep. If she woke up, would she be over it? Over whatever sick crap the witch had done to her and not threatening him with books? Would she?

His meister, Soul decided, could afford to sit this one out.

"What'd you do?" The weapon hissed, voice slightly lower in volume than before.

"I didn't do anything." Tone innocent, the witch said. "She gave into insanity quite readily on her own. I'm sure you felt it every time she tried to resonate with you."

"Resonate with me? You've had me here this whole time."

"Maka Albarn. Weapon form, book. When she wielded herself, her soul tried to find something to resonate with, to boost its power. It's an instinct. And souls don't care about stupid things like physical distance. They're not bound by such things. Not with the black blood as an amplifier."

"Black blood?" He'd heard that before, when Stein had been muttering to himself and stitching Maka back together. No idea what it meant.

The witch continued like she hadn't heard him. "You felt it every time her soul tried it. My data points to it quite clearly. The black blood was able to infect you without a physical infection site. Not that you'd understand."

"I understand that you're a friggin psycho!"

"I know you want to get her out of here. I know you think that everything's all my fault, and that if you can just get away, it'll all be rainbows and sunshine, hmm?"

"I don't think that, I _know_." Clichéd, but what else did he have?

"It's fine, I don't mind. I've collected more than enough data from this trial run. It's been quite useful, there's a prototype in production and – well, you don't care about that, do you? Let me skip to the part you want to hear."

I don't want to hear anything from you, was what the weapon wanted to say. But the words were trapped under his tongue, pushed down by something too close to hope for comfort.

"Do one job, one job for me Soul Eater, and you two are free to go."

* * *

_3 months seems to be my new schedule._

_Super special awesome thanks goes to Nenena, Miss Chocolat, , emperor-soul, Taeniaea, Marlene and Blair for their awesome reviews. LURV. Also thanks goes to everyone who's watched and or fav'd the story :D thanks for still reading. Something like four chapters left? Should be done in another year at this rate P:_

_Can anyone think of a good quote for the top? I'm out._

_TO COLLEGE! AWAYYYYYYYYYY!_


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